


New Beginnings With Old Friends

by PrinceRoxas



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Forlorn Henry, Gen, Mild Language, OOC characters, POV Original Character, Time Skips, lost henry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28997925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceRoxas/pseuds/PrinceRoxas
Summary: Nicholas Katz is a young illustrator living in Chicago when one day out of the blue he is visited by a lawyer telling him that he is the sole inheritor to the estate of the recently deceased Joseph W. Drew.  Finding it extremely strange that a person he's never heard of nor met has left everything to him in his will, Nicholas travels to Brooklyn to find not only a huge collection of strange odds and ends pertaining to the early days of animation, but also a worn out, dilapidated old building now under his name as well.  While sorting through the old records and journals in the old man's apartment, Nicholas begins to uncover more and more about how unstable Joey's life really was.  There are other more unexplained things that also begin to happen.  Puddles of ink mysteriously appearing...strange flashback memories that are someone else's...and the nightmares...oh the constant nightmares...
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. The Benefactor and The Inheritor

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this is just a small writing experiment I'm trying out to work out some ideas I've had brewing. I don't know how far it will go or if I'll keep it up. It's just for fun, like all my writing. Nick is Henry's grandson, the year is 1983. Joey is dead at the age of 82. Henry went "missing" in the real world back in 1963 and has been declared legally dead. As far as we know (you, the reader), Henry has been trapped in the "cycle" since '63.  
> I will make some attempts to showcase some other characters, as I'm going for a "this is a cold case/mystery/horror/supernatural" type story. Plenty of references to the games, books and other materials as I am able to get hold of them. It is been very hard to make a consistent timeline and I've fudged a few things, so please bear with me! This is all for fun!

It was unknown when Nicholas heard the loud rapping at his front door, only that it was obnoxious enough to wake him from his sleep. He had spent most of the previous evening working on a project and ended up going to bed very late. There was another knock on the apartment door, sounding rather insistent. Nicholas groaned from under his quilt and sat up reluctantly from the sofa. He peered through the peephole and oddly saw no one standing there. He leaned back, not believing his tired eyes and looked again. Yes, there was for certain no one out there. But he was sure he had heard knocking…

As if on cue, a sharp tap sounded from the other side of the plywood door. Nicholas was startled and what little bit of tiredness he had was shaken loose. He quickly set the lock chain on the door and turned the handled to open it. With the door now ajar, what wasn’t visible from the peephole was in plain view. Nicholas could see a man with neatly trimmed dark blonde hair dressed in a crisp black suit standing in front of his apartment door. The look on the man’s face was somewhat annoyed and he appeared to be restraining the want to go off and lose his composure. When the door cracked open, the man’s knocking fist came down and he looked straight at Nicholas’s wary eyes staring eyes from the crack.

“Can I help you?” Nicholas’s tone was neither hostile nor friendly; he remained as flat sounding as possible, his hand ready to slam the door shut in case this strange man was not what he seemed.

“Is this the current home of a Mr. Henry Stein?” The man in the suit was young sounding, but his tone too was flat with a hint of snobbery.

Nicholas frowned both at the tone and the mention of the name ‘ _Henry Stein’_. “No, it’s not,” Nicholas replied curtly. “I’m his grandson. What do you want with my grandfather?”

“My name is Samuel Lawrence. I’m here on the behalf of Archgate Studios as the executing lawyer of the estate of Joseph W. Drew.” Mr. Lawrence’s voice now sounded a bit exasperated. He handed Nicholas a business card. “May I come in now? It would be much easier to discuss the entire matter inside than from an old apartment hallway.”

Nicholas weighed the matter in his head and decided that if this even was a scam or a hoax or whatever, the person who was attempting it was sure going through a lot of trouble to do it. Besides, he had heard of Archgate Studios, so there was a bit of legitimacy to this Mr. Lawrence’s words. 

Nicholas sullenly glared at his visitor one more time before mumbling, “Alright, give me a little bit.”

The door clicked shut and then there was a tremendous amount of suddenly noise. **_CLANG! BANG! SHUNK!_** A whole host of various sounds came from just inside the apartment before the lock clicked and the door swung fully open. Nicholas was now dressed in a fresh t-shirt, jean jacket and a plain pair of slightly darker jeans. The sofa he’d been sleeping on was no longer covered with the blanket and the piles of sketch papers were gathered up and haphazardly stacked closer to his work area near the large window of the studio apartment. Nicholas’s dark brown hair was also quickly tamed into something more presentable, but there was only so much he could do; a single cowlick refused to lie in place atop his head.

“If you would,” Nicholas held out his hand to invite his guest inside. “I apologize for the mess.”

“It’s quite alright.” Mr. Lawrence stepped inside with no hesitation and took a quick survey of the apartment. “You are an artist?” he asked, noticing the sketch of a popular cartoon character on the floor.

Nicholas scratched his head. “Mmm yeah…it’s just freelance stuff for the time being though…”

“I see…,” Mr. Lawrence left the topic at that and went to the sofa, took a seat and proceeded to pull papers out of his briefcase. It was more than Nicholas was expecting.

“Ah…ummm…” Nicholas was hesitant to speak up, but every since he heard the name, it had been nagging on him. “You said you were from Archgate? Aren’t they based out in California? What are they doing getting involved in probate if they’re a film and animation studio?”

“It simply has to do with the assets that were purchased and the way the contract was laid out.” Mr. Lawrence’s answer was straight and to the point; there was no room to argue. “Mr. Katz, if you are ready, I will begin to explain what all is part of the estate…”

Nicholas hurriedly sat down in a chair across from the sofa, leaning into the stacks of legal papers. There were a lot of terms that were unfamiliar to Nicholas jumping out at him and he decided to just sit back and let the lawyer man do his thing. This had been a bad habit of his ever since he started working and it had come to bite him in the ass more than once. By the end of it, Nicholas had probably only heard about a quarter of the information.

“Do you understand your rights, Mr. Katz?”

“Huh?” Nicholas was snapped out of his daydream by Mr. Lawrence’s lilting voice. He looked up at the lawyer and suddenly noticed how deeply blue the man’s eyes were. His hair was cut in a tidy yet old-fashioned style and both his nose and jawline were sharp and gave his face a handsome yet harsh appearance.

Mr. Lawrence’s eyebrows furrowed at Nicholas’s stare. “Mr. Katz?”

“Ah! Sorry, sorry…I was up a bit late last night working, so I’m kinda tired. Yeah I understand the contract’s contents. I’m basically the sole heir to his estate, but there’s no money involved, yeah?”

“Precisely. You will have to travel to New York to claim the assets, but as long as you’re alright with that, the items listed here are now yours. Originally, your grandfather Henry would have inherited these items, but Mr. Drew made sure to list a precautionary exception in case Mr. Stein was no longer living. Since you are his next of kin, they are now yours.”

Nicholas thought again. “What about my mother?”

Mr. Lawrence paused before choosing his next words. “Mrs. Katz was contacted first, yes. But due to her extreme reluctance to cooperate with us, we moved on to the next choice; you.”

Nicholas thought the way that statement was said was odd. He knew that his grandfather had mysteriously disappeared when he was very young and declared legally dead a few years later. His mother Henrietta had never quite gotten over the fact her father had never been found. She rarely spoke about the matter. Nicholas frowned again. _Wait, why didn’t she call me about this? That’s just not like her to not say anything about something this big._

“Why did your company send someone out in person?” Nicholas redirected the topic a bit. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to call or send a letter?”

“We reached out several times by both registered mail and by phone,” Mr. Lawrence replied. He calmly pointed to a large stack of untidy unread mail on the coffee table. “Since you did not reply, our last resort was to come in person.”

Nicholas blushed; once again his bad habits were coming back to bite him. Even he had to admit (as he’d been chided by his friends time and time again), his cleanliness and time management weren’t exactly top notch. Looking again at the pile of unopened mail, it stood to reason he’d not heard from them until now. But still, his mother really should have called him to warn him about this. He sighed and made a mental note to call her later that day.

“Ah, yes…again, sorry about that,” Nicholas apologized once more. “I’m fine with traveling out to New York. When do I need to be there?”

“Within a month from today’s date. The address here on this paper.” Mr. Lawrence took out a single piece of paper and handed it to Nicholas. Once again, Nicholas unwittingly noticed how slender the lawyer’s fingers were. They looked ill-suited for writing and more for…

“Ah!” Nicholas suddenly exclaimed, making Mr. Lawrence jump slightly. “I knew your name sounded familiar. You wouldn’t be related to the song writer Samuel Lawrence by chance? I know his music from my time as a student. I studied music theory and his works were a popular topic.”

The corner of Mr. Lawrence’s mouth twitched as if a deep secret had been revealed. “That would be my…late father…Samuel Lawrence Sr., yes.” The way he said _‘late father’_ was with a bit of spite. “Sadly, I never had a talent for music as he did. He died soon after I was born.”

“Oh…I…I’m sorry…I…I didn’t mean-,” Nicholas’s blush got redder as he realized he had just asked something very personal and intruded.

Mr. Lawrence waved his hand, dismissing the matter. “It’s fine. He’s been dead and gone for over thirty years now. Besides-,” There was a sudden strange glint of golden light in the lawyer’s eyes as he smiled. “I’ve managed to break free and succeed where he failed to do so time and time again. I am the real one, after all.”

Mr. Lawrence’s mood had suddenly changed and the smile on his face turned a bit creepy and sinister. Nicholas gave an involuntary shiver and wondered why he said “ _I am the real one”._ He coughed lightly and shook the paper in his hand.

“Mr. Lawrence?”

The lawyer’s smile faded and he returned to the placid yet somewhat flat facial expression. “Yes, forgive me for getting off topic. As long as you meet our company’s go-between within the timeframe listed there, the named assets will be legally transferred to you. Now, we have one more thing to take care of before I go.”

Mr. Lawrence reached back into his briefcase and pulled out a stapled stack of papers. “This is the final piece. Everything we’ve discussed is enclosed in this pack of papers here. All is required of you is your signature.” He held up a black ink ball pen and passed both the papers and the pen to Nicholas.

Nicholas scanned the first few lines of the top page. It was like most contracts of his past work, stating things like what the company was liable for and various other this and that’s. He didn’t feel obliged to read through all of it and merely flipped to the last page where a long line at the bottom was awaiting his signature like a blushing bride. Nicholas scribbled his signature down like he’d done so many times while doing his usual freelance art work. But this time as he was finishing the signing, he felt a sting go up his arm. The tingle was so strong it made his arm twitch and he dropped the pen, ending up blotting the paper with an ugly ink spot right at the end of his signature. It was something akin to being electrocuted and also something he’d never experienced before. It was bizarre.

“Excellent,” Mr. Lawrence’s voice brought Nicholas’s mind back to the ground. He reached out and took the papers, deftly settling them back into his briefcase. However the tenor of his voice in the next sentence had lowered and it was much softer than before. “Transference of the contract is now complete. We look forward to your continued service and thank you for your investment.”

Nicholas rubbed his shocked arm, all of a sudden feeling like he’d just signed a deal with the devil.


	2. Old Time Buddies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of these chapters will be kept pretty short, just 1000-2000 words max. I'm not looking to write a masterpiece here lol. Also! If you like what I'm writing, please leave a comment! I'm totally open to suggestions about what to try for plot ideas! I love hearing other fan ideas about the lore of the game ^_^/

It was late that same evening. Nicholas was sitting on the sofa eating the Chinese takeout he’d ordered while watching the evening newscast. The strange numbness from before had subsided to mostly just a feeling of occasional prickling, like his arm was asleep or pinched. Shortly after the oddball lawyer left his apartment, the phone rang with a call from his current boss asking for a progress report on the project due in two days. Nicholas was nowhere close to being done and had to lie his way into the good graces of his boss to keep his job and his sanity. After hanging up, he had given the prototype drawing on the easel a glance and sighed heavily.

“Why do they always want to change it right before the deadline…,” Nicholas’s words were full of weariness and cynicism.

Thus he has busted his ass for the next several hours reworking the previously approved drawing into a new form, faxing it over to the office, waiting, editing, and then repeating the process. The new design was closer to being OK-ed, but nothing was final yet. He’d have to take it in person. Now he was not only more exhausted than yesterday, he was irritated and for good reason in his opinion. He’d not only been woke up by a weird man telling him he’d inherited someone he’d never heard of’s estate, his boss told him to scrap the entire project and do it over TWO DAYS before the deadline AND he’d failed to call his mother to ask about the lawyer.

Nicholas clenched his tingling hand while staring absently at the TV screen. He really wasn’t paying it too much attention; something to do with President Reagan wanting to launch a new defense program, nothing really new. The sudden sound of something dripping made him look down, thinking he’d knocked over his can of Sprite. His soda can was still sitting on the coffee table undisturbed. Instead, there was a small yet distinctly black spot of ink dribbled on the scattered napkins. Nicholas stared at the stain, bewildered as to where it could have come from. He didn’t use India ink for his media work; Pigma pens were much simpler, cheaper and much easier to use.

He went to reach for the napkins, thinking maybe the stain had come from earlier during the visit from the lawyer. But right as he going to pick it up, the phone on the wall in the nearby kitchen rang loudly over the noise of the TV.

“Great…what else can bother me today?” Nicholas grumbled under his breath, forgetting the weird ink splotch and hurrying to answer the phone. He picked up the receiver. “Hello, Nicholas Katz speaking.”

“Hey hey hey! Nick, my man, whatcha up to?” The voice on the other end was boisterous and loud, making the phone’s speaker crackle a bit. Nicholas held it away from his ear as he flinched from the noise.

“Mike? Michael Ferreria?” The surprise was evident in Nicholas’s voice.

The young man on the other end laughed. “Aiya, it’s good that you still remember me! We only graduated a few years ago and yet you never contact me after!”

Of course Nicholas well remembered this rowdy and lively friend from his college days; where Mike went to study filmography and sound tech, Nicholas went into illustration and animation. They often had the same teachers together and soon became friends. While Mike was always wanting to go to parties and meet people, Nicholas was more subdued and preferred the quiet life. Mike had always chided him that living like a cloistered priest was no way for a young man to live.

“I’ve been working, so sue me. So, what’s today’s call for? It can’t be just to pester me about not talking to you after graduating.”

The phone scoffed. “Hahaha! You’ve always had that good sense of humor! That’s why I like you! No, I heard my company had reached out to you, so I wanted to check it to see if it was true.”

Nicholas blinked. “Wait, you work for Archgate Studios now?”

“I sure do! Got hired right outta the gate!” Mike’s voice on the receiver was full of pride. Nicholas could just see his chest puffing up as he beamed. He’d always been like that. “So what is it? Are they hiring you too? You coming back to California or what?”

Nicholas pinched the skin between his eyebrows. He really didn’t have the energy for this right now. He let out a long dragged out sigh and scratched his head. “No, I’m afraid it’s nothing fancy like that. It seems I’ve inherited some property the studio used to own.”

There was silence on the phone before Mike exploded with a very surprised, “WHHHAAATTTT?????”

Nicholas held the phone away again. Really, he need a smoke right about now to deal with this level of shit. He brought the receiver back after Mike was done shouting. “Calm down, you crazy fool. It’s not like I’ve suddenly become rich overnight.”

“But, but…Archgate doesn’t-,” Mike began, but Nicholas cut him off.

“That’s what I told the lawyer, but everything was legit. All I gotta do is go up to New York, claim the stuff, and the deal is done.”

“My man, you don’t think this the least bit suspicious?” Mike’s tone changed to a concerned one. “I’ve seen these types of schemes before on TV.”

Nicholas shrugged like his friend could see. “You watch too much TV. Besides, you said you heard it direct from Archgate yourself. It’s legit.”

There was more silence over the phone. “You need someone to come with you?” Mike asked, his voice still laced with worry.

“No. It’s just for a couple days. Once I finish this job I’m on, I’m gonna head up. Simple enough thing, right? It’ll be like when my grandmother Linda died and we had to organize the estate sale.”

“I still think it’s fishy,” Mike said. “Someone is pulling strings somewhere. Why would a well off film studio just give away some of their assets to someone they know nothing about?”

“I said the same thing to the lawyer. He just replied that it was the way the terms of the assets’ sale was written up. To be honest, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be getting.”

“It is what it is.” Nicholas said it with affirmation. “Listen, Mike, I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be okay, really. I gotta finish this job in two days, this boss is really pissing me off...,”

“Ah, man say no more. Just be careful, okay? You’ve always got me to rely on, alright? I’mma let you go, okay? Call me sometime!”

The phone finally clicked off with a decisive snap and the dial tone rang in Nicholas’s ear. He hung up the phone and sighed again. Yep, a cigarette might really help. The TV was now playing a popular sitcom as Nicholas crossed back into the living room. He was headed towards the large window displaying the nightlife of downtown Chicago which also happened to be where his workstation was. Looking spitefully at the easel next to the desk, he pushed open the window. The fair breeze of late spring mixed with the stench of city living drifted in; it was nothing he wasn’t already used to. Nicholas flopped down in his desk chair, lighting his smoke and finally taking that long needed drag.

The thin smoke hung in the air of the apartment as the bustle of the city floated in and out of his ears. He was so tired…he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a proper sleep. He’d bounced from job to job ever since graduating, taking whatever work he could find. Each time he tried to find a more permanent position, the excuse he was given was usually “oversaturation” or “unsuitable portfolio”. All a bunch of bullshit…

Another draw of the cigarette brought it down to half its length. What was all that work for anyway? To slave away for somebody else? His mother used to tell him that dreams could come true if you believed hard enough in them. Well, that certainly was a lie. He took two more puffs, snuffed the cigarette and laughed lightly at himself.

“Hehehe…what the hell am I doing? Inheritor to an estate…what the fuck man…I’m no rich boy…making it sound like I’m gentry or something…”

Nicholas’s eyes began to droop. He was so drowsy he had failed to notice something strange in his dark apartment. Leading from the kitchen phone to Nicholas’s chair was a tiny, barely noticeable trail of splattered black ink spots. The spots lead straight up to Nicholas’s right hand, which hung limply from the chair he was now asleep in. From the tips of his fingers, if one squinted just enough, you could see the ink dripping slowly and quietly drop by drop, creating a tidy little stain on the carpet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ==>The author has something to say<==  
> \- Nick's college friend Michael Ferreria is a reference to Brazilian filmmaker Fernando (Ferreria) Meirelles, who also studied animation along with film. His first name is also a reference to Michael Eisner (HA, I got that iron joke in there TWICE) It's good that his friend is worried and telling him to run like the wind! His instincts are good xD Dunno if he will appear again, but we'll see!
> 
> Nobody special appeared this chapter, sorry! But we get to see that something is definitely off with Nick! Nick's mom will make an appearance next chapter hopefully~


	3. Hidden Lies

What Nicholas was witnessing was something akin to a movie. The air around him was thick with cigarette smoke and the room was lit with the yellowish glow of old style incandescent light bulbs. There were several slanted desks set up with various people working away at what seemed like drawings. Everyone was dressed like the old photos of his grandparents he’d seen when they were young. If that wasn’t weird enough, it was as silent as the movies of that time period in the room. Just the small ambient noises of scraping chairs, coughing, and the scratch of pencils could be heard. Not a single word was being spoken.

Wherever Nicholas was, he did not have control of the scene. He was located at the very back of the room near a set of stairs. He tried to turn his head to see more of the room, but nothing happened. Whoever he was seeing this scene through, they were unaware of his presence. There was also a slanted desk here and a set of drawing tools to match. However, nothing was drawn on the paper.

A small tap on Nicholas’s shoulder caused the body to look over. A young man, about Nicholas’s age or so stood grinning broadly at Nicholas. He was average all around, with messy curly brown hair, a dirt smudged face and an overly friendly aura. He was dressed in demin overalls and wore a flat cap over his mop of hair. He was also holding a broom. Nicholas could only guess he was the janitor.

“So, Henry, still stuck thinking ‘bout that new character?” The young man’s voice held a very distinctive Brooklyn accent, almost to the point it sounded a bit fake. He also addressed the body as ‘Henry’.

Nicholas was caught off guard. _Henry? Isn’t that…isn’t that my-_

The body just gave a tired sigh and a very soft gentle voice spoke. “The ideas aren’t just flowing like they used to, Wally. But you know how it is. What Joey wants-“

“-Joey gets! Yeah, yeah! But, hey, it’s like I’ve kept telling ya, Henry. If he keeps pushing ya for things like this, ya just gotta tell him, you’re outta here!”

‘Henry’ shook his head. “It’s not that simple, Wally and you know that.”

‘Wally’ just shrugged. “Hey, I said what I said. You’re my friend and I don’t like seeing ya being pushed ‘round.”

Nicholas could feel ‘Henry’s’ lips curling slightly into a thin smile. “Thanks. It’s good to know someone here has my back.”

‘Wally’ tipped his flat cap, grinning again. “I better get back or Mr. Drew is gonna have my skin. I’m outta here! See ya, Henry!”

Nicholas watched ‘Wally’ wave goodbye and walk around the corner and out of the room. ‘Henry’ turned back to the blank piece of paper in front of him and sighed again. Everything from frustration to futility ran through his mind. Nicholas could really sympathize with his mindset. Was this any different to his own working situation? Just as ‘Henry’ reached for a pencil, a loud voice called out.

“Oh, Henry! Perfect timing! I was just coming to see how you were doing!”

Nicholas never got to see who the voice belonged to. Just like a movie scene transitioning, the room begun to fade to black as ‘Henry’ turned towards the voice. The speaker’s face was obscured by the inky shadows before being completely blotted out by darkness.

Nicholas was left with the darkness surrounding him. At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was experiencing some sort of transmittance of his soul or if he was just dreaming. A sudden rush of cold air made Nicholas shiver. He looked around but what did he expect to find? There was nothing here but blackness.

“...nry…” The whisper was faint, but in the silence it was distinct. Nicholas nearly jumped out of his skin in fright.

“Who’s there?!”

No answer except the silence. Something dropped onto Nicholas’s cheek. He quickly wiped it off. There was another drop, this time onto his forehead. That too was swiped away.

“…………”

Nicholas couldn’t ignore it now. There was something else in this creepy space.

**_*DRIP* *DRIP* *DRIP*_ **

More abnormal dribbles of an unknown substance fell down onto Nicholas’s head. He was so scared at this point, he didn’t even bother to wipe them off. His heart was beating a mile a minute **.** He hesitated before looking down at his hand where some of the substance had made its way. It was black ink.

A low level growl came from right above Nicholas’s head. He froze on the spot as he felt even more of the ink drip down into his hair and onto his face. Very, very slowly he turned his face upward and promptly screamed.

That scream carried over as Nicholas fell out of his desk chair and to the floor with a heavy _thump_. He remained on the floor before realizing he was at home and what he had just experienced was a nightmare…a very realistic nightmare. Nicholas shakily sat up and rubbed his face. His breathing was still a bit erratic and he was covered in a cold sweat. Whatever the hell that was, he did not want to ever experience anything like that ever again.

The phone abruptly rang and startled the already uneasy Nicholas. He scrambled to get up and reach the phone, tripped on the chair and practically crawled up to the receiver.

“H-Hello?” He knew he sounded flustered and out of breath, but he wasn’t expecting the retort from the other end.

“Where the hell have you been, Nick? We’ve been trying to get a hold of you all morning!”

It was just then that Nicholas realized the sun was already up and fairly high in the sky. He must have been asleep for quite awhile. He sheepishly blushed.

“I…sorry…I was out…grocery shopping…I just got back,” he lied, trying to keep his voice level. He was still feeling shaken from the nightmare.

His teammate on the other end simply huffed, taking the lie at face value. “Well, whatever. The boss wants you to bring the drawings down to the office today instead of tomorrow.”

“Today?! But he hasn’t even-,”

“Doesn’t matter. And you better get here in the next hour. He’s really mad.”

The phone clicked and Nicholas was left literally hanging with a dead receiver in his hand. He really wanted to scream again, but he’d probably caused enough trouble to the neighbors this morning. He quickly glanced at the clock on the wall and swore out loud. An hour?! Seriously?! Even if he left now for Chicago Station, the transit to North Western Station would take twenty minutes, and that’s not accounting for all the time in-between!

Nicholas angrily slammed the phone back onto the wall and went back to his workstation. Cursing under his breath, he put the new sketches, plus the old ones into his work portfolio. He then ran up the stairs to where the open air bedroom was, shot into the bathroom and took care of the necessities. Just as he was finishing washing his hands, he caught a glance of his face in the mirror and paused. The dark circles under his eyes were so much darker than a month prior and his face looked thinner. His hair had gotten longer too and his bangs were starting to get into his eyes. Ever since taking this job he really hadn’t had the time to take care of himself. He looked like such a mess. 

“Well, there’s no helping it now,” he lamented as he came out of the bathroom. Not even bothering to change out of the day old t-shirt and jean jacket, he grabbed his usual backpack, stuffed a pack of cigarettes into it and went back downstairs. He made a check for keys and wallet, grabbed the large portfolio and his beanie and bolted out the apartment door.

Forty five minutes and several long stares later, Nicholas arrived at a tall office building with over thirty floors. He walked through the turnstile doors and up to the front desk of the lobby. He’d only been here twice, so while he was vaguely familiar with where to go, he wanted to be absolutely certain. He was met with the smiling face of a pretty desk clerk.

“Welcome to Central Height Towers Offices. How can I help you today?” Her voice was pleasant and held no judgment or hostility.

“Is March Hare Publishing still on the fifth floor?” Nicholas asked. He only had five minutes left.

“Yes, it is. Are you a client?”

“No, I work for them. Can you call them and let them know I’m here. My name is Nicholas Katz.”

The clerk’s smile didn’t falter as she nodded and picked up her phone. “Hello? Yes, this is Maggie from the lobby. A Nicholas Katz says he’s…oh…alright…I see…goodbye.”

She hung up and nodded towards the elevators. “You may go up now.”

“Thanks.”

The elevator ride was uneventful. The doors opened up to a open floor planned office space with several desks and one lone enclosed meeting room. Nicholas was greeted on the spot by a tall older man with short cut salt and pepper hair dressed in a gray suit and red tie.

“Nick! You made it! And with thirty seconds to spare!” The man laughed at his own joke, clapping a hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. Nicholas just gritted his teeth and forced a smile. “Come on, I’m dying to see the new drawings!”

“About that…Mr. Mortimer, I’m not sure what else we can do with them at this point.” Nicholas voiced his worry as he was led to the meeting room. The rest of the small publishing company’s staff was seated inside. Nicholas paused. “Why is everyone else here?”

“Just a formality, don’t worry about it!” Mr. Mortimer, who appeared to be the owner and boss of the company, brushed it off. “I wanted everyone to see the fine work you’ve been making for us today, so I called a meeting. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Uh…no, it’s fine…” Nicholas thought it was a bit odd to have _everyone_ come see his work, but it was the final piece before it all went to publishing after all so…maybe it wasn’t so strange? “Where do you want me to put them out?”

“Just here on the table is fine. Oh, you remembered to bring the old sketches too, yes?” Mr. Mortimer seemed to be very insistent about the last bit.

“Yes sir, I brought them. Here’s all the drawings. This is the new one approved for final publishing and these are the old ones.” Nicholas scattered the 18”x24” size drawings across the table for his co-works to see. He made sure to leave the finalized one out from the others.

“Wonderful, simply wonderful. I knew you had the talent when I saw your portfolio Nick, but this is spectacular!” Mr. Mortimer picked up one of the drawings, admiring it. “From today on, March Hare Publishing won’t need your services anymore.”

Nicholas blinked a few times, tying to make the last set of words correlate to the first set. No one else in the room was speaking or making eye contact. In fact, they were looking rather guilty.

“…what?”

Mr. Mortimer’s facial expression hadn’t lost any of its tactful pleasantry, but his eyes were cold. “You heard me correctly, Mr. Katz. From today on, you are no longer employed with us.”

Nicholas looked to each of his co-workers’ faces and their guilt just deepened. Some of them even turned away or tried to bury their faces into their shirt collars. And that was enough; something inside Nicholas just snapped and all the irritation he’d been holding back just hit the roof.

“Oh, you’ve got to be _shitting_ me!” Nicholas’s voice roared with such rage that a few of the co-workers near him flinched. “You put me through six months of literal _fucking hell_ just so you can fire me right after you get the goods?!” 

Nicholas was so furious he was shaking and ended up kicking over a couple chairs in his anger. His head was down as he balled his fists up, failing to notice the rising fear of the people in the room. Suddenly he popped his head up, a manic smile on his face. “You know what? You can keep the money. Your petty little company isn’t worth my time. You’ll go under soon enough just like the rest of them. I hope it was worth it.”

Nicholas turned on his heel, grabbing his portfolio and walked out of the stunned room. As he was heading towards the elevator, he heard a voice call out.

“Nick, wait!”

Nicholas didn’t even bother to turn around as he pushed the down button. “Save your breath, Artie. I bet it was fun watching me get fired. Hope you enjoyed the show.”

“It wasn’t like that!” The co-worker called Artie seemed genuinely upset by the scene in the meeting room. “It was Mr. Mortimer’s decision was to fire you, not us. We didn’t want-,”

“I said save your breath.” Nicholas’s voice was full of bitterness. The elevator dung and the doors opened. As Nicholas stepped inside and pressed the L button, a pair of hands stopped the doors from closing. This man who was about the same age as Nicholas with shaggy ginger hair and blue eyes looked at him pleadingly and held out a small scrap of paper.

“Just…just take my number. Please. I really did like working with you, Nick. And…I am sorry. For everything.”

The elevator doors finally clicked shut and the car shuttered downward. Nicholas looked down at the scrap in his hand and just shoved it in his jean pocket. All he felt was numbness on the way home. He was pretty sure he made one or two kids cry with his dead fish face on the train ride home. Yet another failed job…yet another boss who turned out to be nothing more than a scheming bastard wolf with a bunch of co-workers who were nothing more than sheep for the slaughter.

“I really know how to find ‘em…” The resentment in Nicholas’s mutterings was quite evident as he drug himself up the stairs of his small apartment building. He was cresting the top of the stairs, reaching for his keys in his pocket when a familiar female voice floated down the four unit hallway.

“Nick?”

Nick’s head snapped up to meet the eyes of a small elderly woman standing at his front door. Her hair had been permed, cut short and was mixed with both dark grey and brown. She was dressed in a flowery printed blouse and mid-calf navy blue skirt with low heeled shoes and a small pair of pearl earrings could be seen on her earlobes. Next to her was a small rolling carpet suitcase. She was looking at Nicholas with both relief and worry.

Nicholas could already feel the tears welling in corners of his eyes. He just dropped what he was holding right there and in a choked hushed voice whispered “Mom?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ==>The author has something to say<==  
> \- When you're at your lowest point, who doesn't want a good hug from their mom/closest friend/significant other sometimes? Surprise visit from Nick's mom, Henrietta!  
> \- That boss Mr. Mortimer is a complete and total jerkface! What a prick! Aren't there laws against this kind of thing?! It's 1983 after all! Labor laws are a thing, right?!  
> \- Artie is a good guy. He just happens to work for a shitty boss. We've been there before TT_TT


	4. The Present and the Past

“Mom, what are you doing here?” Nick had to once again hold back some emotion as he brought his mother into the apartment. It was a complete and utter shock to see his mother standing at his doorstep and he’d nearly lost it again right there.

Henrietta set her suitcase up next to the staircase and gave a small tsk at the messy state of the apartment. “I was worried about you since you hadn’t called me in so long…”

“I’m a grown man, Mom…you don’t need to come out in person to check up on me.” Nicholas dumped his portfolio and his backpack at his workstation and went to the kitchen. “You could have called me yourself, you know.”

“I thought about that,” Henrietta sounded a bit regretful. “But I also hadn’t seen you in nearly two years, so I thought a surprise visit would be nice.”

Nicholas nearly slapped his forehead in exasperation. “Mom…you need to call me first before you come over. Did you just decide to fly out all the way from Pasadena?”

Henrietta nodded her head as she took a seat on the sofa. “Of course. If I called you to say I was coming, how is it a ‘surprise visit’ anymore?” Her answer made it sound like suddenly jumping on the next flight from Pasadena to Chicago was the most logical answer.

Nicholas just sighed and left it at that. There was no sense in arguing with her over something like this. Once during college, she’d shown up at the dorms unannounced and wandered for nearly a day on the school grounds before someone found her and directed her to where Nicholas was staying off campus. He’d never been more embarrassed in his life.

“So, my dear, how have you been?” Henrietta took full control of the wheel and steered off with another conversation. “You look so tired…have you been getting enough sleep?”

Nicholas had made himself a mug of instant coffee and was in the process of brewing a second one. “I’m fine. Work has been hectic lately, but I just finished my last job. I’m taking a respite before looking for work again.”

Nicholas’s mother hummed at the answer and took the hot coffee. Nicholas had put a little bit of sugar in it, just as she liked. Henrietta looked down at her cup before looking at the dark bags under her only child’s eyes as he sat down next to her. Every time she saw Nicholas these last few years, she kept being reminded of her father. It was a heavy burden on her mind and heart; her son truly did resemble him in both face and talent. 

“Nick, are you sure you’ll be alright in between jobs?” Henrietta asked. “Do you have enough money? Maybe you should come back to California for a while…”

“Mom, I said I’ll be fine. I’m twenty-eight. I know you’re a worrywart, but I’ve got some money saved up.”

Henrietta’s words were squashed down and she hummed quietly again. She put the undrunk coffee down on the table and got up to get into her suitcase. Without saying a word, she came back with a stack of what appeared to be leather bound notebooks and a few folders. They also appeared to be very old and two of the five notebooks were coming unbound. She held them out towards Nicholas. He looked up at his mother with a confused expression.

“What are these?” he asked, settling his mug next to his mother’s. He took them from her hands and put them in his lap. The front cover of the top journal had nothing written on it to indicate what it was.

“I should have given you these years ago, but it never felt like the right time.” Henrietta sat back down and finally took a sip from her mug. “These belonged to your grandfather, my father, Henry Stein. They’re his personal writings and drawings.”

The palms of Nicholas’s hands started sweating as he was told what these were. His heartbeat quickened as well as his mind raced. Surely…surely this was just a coincidence…right? First that bizarre movie-like nightmare from this morning, and now he’s being given these old documents from his deceased grandfather? What the hell was this script?!

 _I am definitely being set up…that or maybe it really is just a coincidence?_ Nicholas though as he gingerly opened the cover of the top journal and looked at the yellowed paper’s first entry:

**_September 3 rd, 1930 _ ** **_–_ **

**_Today is my last at the studio. I won’t lie and say I’m leaving with no regrets. But I do feel a sense of freedom with this departure. I am sorry Joey and I couldn’t reach an amicable agreement, but it’s time for both of us to move on._ **

The handwriting was neat and tidy, written in a tight cursive script that reflected the amicable personality of its owner. Immediately the soft and gentle voice of ‘Henry’ from his dream flooded his mind and the journal entry was read again in that voice. The emotion of the writer was felt with every pen stroke. Nicholas tested the fragility of the paper and found it was tougher than he expected. He quickly flipped to another page deeper in the book.

**_July 18 th, 1931 _ ** **_–_ **

**_I managed to get a job as a cartoonist for a local newspaper here in Pasadena. It doesn’t pay much, but at least I can see Linda and Henrietta more often._ **

It seemed that the entries weren’t written every day, just whenever his grandfather was feeling like it. Nicholas’s head was filled with the voice of ‘Henry’ as he flipped through entry after entry. Most were like this; day to day activities of his daily life and nothing special to speak of. Nicholas’s eyes jumped to another entry written in below the one about Henry’s new job:

**_August 5 th, 1931 _ ** **_–_ **

**_My new character is a hit apparently. That’s good I guess. At least they’re not working me to the bone. Henrietta’s birthday is coming up. I’ve got the perfect thing to get her too._ **

**_August 12 th, 1931 _ ** **_–_ **

**_I got a letter today from an old co-worker. Seems that Joey has managed to make a new Bendy cartoon. That’s good for him and the studio, but I can’t say I’ve seen it yet. Guess the studio’s cartoons are only shown in New York._ **

Bendy cartoon? Nicholas got a feeling he’d heard that phrase before, but where? And this Joey…was he the same as this Joseph Drew from the probate will? While his thoughts were swirling, Nicholas’s shoulder was suddenly given a light shake and he gave a startled gasp. His mother’s eyes were wide with concern as she stared at him.

“My dear, you’ve been wildly staring at that notebook for the last five minutes. What’s gotten into you?”

Nicholas rubbed his eyes, feeling his energy drained all of a sudden. “Nothing…I guess…I guess I’m more tired than I thought…Thanks for these, Mom. I’ll finish looking through them after a good night’s rest.”

Henrietta smiled as Nicholas pecked his mother on the cheek and got up from the sofa. A lone paper drifted off from the top of the coffee table’s mail pile and onto the floor without Nicholas noticing, but his mother saw it float to the floor. Ever the organized person, she reached for it and made to put it back where it had come from. But a lone name at the top of the page made her freeze. Her eyes widened in horror and she started to tremble.

Nicholas just finished putting the stack of notebooks and papers on his workstation desk. As he turned back to the sofa, he saw his mother sitting there with a piece of paper in her hand. Her expression had changed to one of complete distress. Nicholas couldn’t help up become instantly troubled.

“Mom, what’s the matter?” Nicholas came back over, stopping just shy of the coffee table’s edge. “Why are you-“

“Where did you get this from?!” His sentence was cut off by his mother shaking the paper at him and screaming shrilly at him. “Why do you have something like this?!”

Henrietta’s mood had flipped from being concerned about her son’s welfare to being extremely irritated by a piece of paper. 

Nicholas was genuinely confused. “Mom? What are you…what is that?”

“Don’t act stupid! Why do you have this will and final testimony letter?!” Henrietta balled up the paper and threw it at Nicholas’s face. It bounced off his shoulder instead and fell somewhere behind Nicholas. “How did those people manage to contact you?!”

“Mom, calm down! You’re going to hurt yourself! Did you bring your medicine?”

Henrietta ignored Nicholas’s protests and made a swing at him. He had to avoid being hit by her waving fist as she accused him.

“It’s just like before!” Henrietta’s shrieked as tears began to stream down her weathered yet still pretty face. “You’re going to abandon me, just like Davis did, just like Mother did…I knew it…I knew it…I knew it!”

Her sobs continued to echo throughout the apartment as Nicholas stood there in absolute stunned silence. She slumped back onto the couch, crying into her hands and mumbling incoherently. Not knowing what else to do, Nicholas went back into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. He gently touched his mother’s shoulder as she cried non-stop.

“I’m not going anywhere, Mom. Here, drink some water while I get your medicine. We’ll talk about it after you’ve taken it.”

Henrietta reluctantly took the water glass but did not drink. She continued to quietly cry, her elderly face now streaked with ugly tear stains. She was beginning to hiccup a bit as well. “No…no…not again…but he’s dead…he’s dead now…he can’t…”

Nicholas didn’t mind his mother’s mumblings as he dug out her bottle of prescription from her suitcase. When he was about seven, Nicholas’s grandfather took a trip up to New York for a personal matter. Several weeks passed and he still hadn’t returned. A missing person’s case was filed, but still more and more months passed and his grandfather did not return. So a year later, the police department had the case closed and ‘Henry Stein’ was declared legally dead. Henrietta, Nicholas’s mother, had always been extremely close to her father and never quite recovered from his disappearance. If this wasn’t enough, Nicholas’s own father, Davis Katz, upped and abandoned their family and left with no trace that same year. His mother fell into a deep depression that she struggled with for years afterward. To this day, she still had trouble letting Nicholas live his own life for fear of being abandoned once more.

After several minutes of cohesion, Nicholas finally got his mother to take a dosage of her medication. She swallowed the last pill and took a deep breath, as if settling her manic thoughts at last. Nicholas took that opportunity to start.

“A lawyer from Archgate Studios came here a few days ago,” Nicholas began tentatively. He looked at his mother’s face, but it remained expressionless. He pressed on. “He said I had inherited some property and that you were contacted first, but you refused to cooperate. Is that true?”

Henrietta was mute and unmoving for a long while on the sofa before finally giving an answer. “…yes.” Her voice was now a bit hoarse from all the crying. “I want nothing to do with that man or his lifetime’s trash.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Nicholas asked in a hard tone.

“…I didn’t…I didn’t think they would come after you. I thought with my refusal, they would leave it at that and move onto auctioning off his things.” Henrietta looked up at her son with pleading eyes. “Nicholas…please…please tell me you didn’t accept to inherit…”

Nicholas looked away, now feeling guilty. “It’s only for a couple days.”

“Nicholas, you can’t!” Henrietta grabbed her son’s arm tightly, almost out of fear. “That man…that man…he’s…he’s…!”

“Mom, why are you so terrified of this guy?” Nicholas pried his mother’s fingers off his jacket. “I’ll probably just have a broker handle setting up an estate sale. I’m not doing anything dangerous or reckless.”

Henrietta could see that there was no swaying Nicholas’s mind. She gave a defeated sigh and brushed a hand across his cheek, her expression complicated. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, alright?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ==>The author has something to say<==  
> \- So it turns out Nick has a piece of garbage for a dad. *ptoo* And stay away, you trash man! I bet he was the type to not pay any attention to his kid or wife too.  
> \- Poor Henrietta. Her life just literally crumbled after both her dad and husband disappeared/left. For those who may not have picked up on it, she suffers from bipolar depression/manic depression, a common ailment from this type of trauma.  
> \- Looks like Nick will be heading to New York soon! Get ready for more plot exploits, new characters and of course, nightmares!


	5. A Stage is Set

Before long, it was Friday. Chicago O’Hare Airport was its usual bustling hub of activity; flights coming in and out, people rushing to and fro and various flight officers directing people to their gates. Nicholas’s flight was a direct, non-connecting one straight from Chicago to Queens, then a cab to the Brooklyn address. 

“You’ll be back on Tuesday, right?”

“Yes, Mom, I already told you. I might have to make another trip later in the month, but this is just so I can claim the inheritance.”

“I just…,” Henrietta paused, her head rocking from side to side as she fussed. Eventually she just sighed and patted her son on the cheek. “Well, you know how I worry.”

“Yes, Mom. I know.”

The intercom called for local flights to La Guardia. All of the business people began to shuffle towards the ticket checker. Nicholas readjusted his backpack and grabbed the handle of his small suitcase.

“I’ll be home in the blink of an eye.”

Nicholas leaned down and kissed his mother on the cheek and turned towards the unsightly business line. He pursed his lips and thought that made sense, considering where he was headed. They gave him a strange look as he meshed himself into the line. He was completely out of place there, dressed in his loose dark grey windbreaker, acid washed jeans, Vans and his black knit beanie versus the several men and women in business suits and work attire. 

The ticket attendant met Nicholas’s eyes and held out his hand. Wordlessly, Nicholas handed over his cheap, coach seat ticket. It was quickly looked once over, punched and then he was waved through the gate. Everything was done quicker than expected and soon Nicholas was situated in his seat on the 50 person flight.

At most, the flight would take two hours to get from O’Hare to La Guardia. Nicholas leaned back into his seat, putting on his headphones and snapping in a favorite cassette tape into his portable Walkman. This tape was his grandmother’s favorite and every time Nicholas was taken to visit her, they listened to Bing together. When she passed, the tape was given to him as a parting gift. Nicholas really wished he could have had her vinyl collection too, but he had nowhere to put such a large set of records plus the player at the time of her death. He was still a college student then.

Pressing play, the sound of Bing Crosby’s soothing voice filled his ears, drowning out the murmurs of the other passengers.

**_“…Whenever skies are gray, don’t you worry or fret,_ **

**_A smile will bring the sunshine and you’ll never get wet!_ **

**_So, let a smile be your umbrella on a rainy, rainy day…”_ **

The lyrics of the song faded out as Nicholas slowly drifted into sleep. He had been nervous about the flight and the presence of his mother hadn’t helped his sleeping situation in the apartment. So as the fight started to take off, Nicholas in his tired state easily fell asleep to his music. He hummed a bit as he napped, enjoying his rest until something suddenly pushed Nicholas hard in the chest and he startled awake. His eyes snapped open, making to rip his headphones off and yell at whoever hit him, but his hands grabbed empty air. He was also no longer on the airplane.

“Henry, I really think we can make this work.” The young man standing in front of him had half of his face obscured in shadow, but Nicholas could see a thin moustache on his upper lip. He was dressed a nice looking argyle sweater with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a pair of warm gray slacks.

“But…I just don’t know if…,” Nicholas could feel ‘his’ arms being restrained gently by other office workers. ‘Henry’s’ voice was agitated and tired, not anything like the usual kind tone it normally was.

The young man turned away from ‘Henry’ and the group of workers. “Our deadline is next week. If we can’t make this new change work, we’ll lose our funding for the next month.”

‘Henry’ whispered something to the workers and they backed off, silently retreating to their desks. He came up the young man and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re eager to make something worthwhile, Joey, but these things take time. You can’t keep pushing them like this.”

 _Oh…so this is the ‘Joey Drew’ I’ve heard so much about,_ Nicholas thought.

‘Joey’s’ face was still obscured, as if ‘Henry’s’ memories couldn’t quite recall all of his friend’s face.

 _…Memories?_ Nicholas frowned behind ‘Henry’s’ face. _No…this is just a dream…_

“Besides,” ‘Henry’ continued, crossing his arms, also frowning and sighing heavily. “We’re all worried about what the papers have been saying lately. Making cartoons should be the least of our troubles.”

“Making cartoons is exactly the distraction we need, Henry!” ‘Joey’s’ voice resounded throughout the small studio space. He put his own hands on ‘Henry’s’ shoulders, as if in solidarity. “I know where you were stationed before, Henry. I know the horrors you saw, believe me. I lost friends too. But making these cartoons helps me to relieve the pain of the loss…and to help forget about the looming fact that we might have another one on our hands.”

‘Henry’ scratched his head. “You’re overlooking the point, Joey…”

Nicholas could feel the darkness creeping back on him as ‘Henry’s’ voice faded away. Soon he was left in the center of a gloomy circular room. There were no windows, just black theatrical curtains hung up all around the top of the ceiling. It was as if he were on a stage.

**_You don’t want wealth?_ **

The voice was very sudden and echoed about the room, causing Nicholas to jump. He looked over his shoulder to see a wooden stage standee behind him. It was of a grinning character and stood about two and a half feet tall. Nicholas looked around for the source of the voice, but clearly, there was no one there except him. He looked for an exit then, but there were only the curtains.

**_You don’t want revenge?_ **

Nicholas stopped searching the dimly lit room and looked slowly at the character standee. Did…did that voice come from that…?

 ** _Hmm…You’re a funny one. Just like Henry._** Nicholas could have sworn the standee cocked its head to laugh at him. A caucus giggle then echoed around the room. **_Maybe you’ll prove to be more useful than him. I like you._**

A burst of thick black ink then rushed forward out from the lone standee and reached out thin tendrils towards Nicholas. The reaction was automatic; Nicholas just turned and tried to run, promptly tripping on air and falling flat on his face. The living ink threaded itself into his shoes and into his jeans, gripping tightly to his legs and pulled him backwards across the floor. Nicholas’s fingernails ripped on the floorboards as he was drug back screaming into the pool of ink at the base of the standee.

“Sir?! Sir?!” The sharp voice of a female flight attendant startled Nicholas awake. He ended up dropping his Walkman to the floor and all the batteries popped out. The flight attendant gasped.

“Oh my…I…I’m so sorry, but…but you were making such an awful sound…we were afraid you were having a seizure.”

Nicholas glared at the attendant, though he couldn’t blame her for doing her job. He reached down and picked up his Walkman and batteries. “As you can see,” he said, replacing the batteries and checking the tape, “I’m perfectly fine. I was asleep.”

“Oh. I…see…well, we’ve already landed. Please head towards the plane’s exit with the other passengers.”

Nicholas grumbled and stuffed his Walkman back into his backpack. As he reached for his suitcase up above, his hand touched something wet on its handle. He quickly retracted that hand and saw his palm was coated in viscous India ink.

“What the he-,”

“Sir, are you coming?” The flight attendant was back to check on Nicholas. She now looked a bit more concerned than before. “Everyone else has left the cabin.”

Nicholas looked back down at his palm. The ink was gone without a trace. He pulled his suitcase down and sure enough, there was nothing there that looked like ink stains there either. _Ok, now I’m just going crazy,_ he thought. 

“Sir?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,”

Nicholas left the plane in a sour mood. Standing in the lobby of La Guardia Airport, now he had to figure out how to get to his next destination. Nicholas took out the paper that had the address of where he was supposed to go. Nicholas usually only passed through New York for work; he’d only ever stayed in New York once when his grandfather first vanished and he, his mother and grandmother had come up to file the report. Since then, the city had become nothing more than a far distant memory.

“Oh, Mr. Katz, what good timing.” A familiar, lilting voice made Nicholas look up from his paper. Mr. Lawrence, the lawyer from before, stood in front of Nicholas with a slight smile on his face. He was now dressed in a three piece light gray pinstripe suit with a golden yellow tie and black and white wingtip dress shoes. His clean cut hair was styled back with some gel, falling gently onto his forehead. Mr. Lawrence held out his hand towards Nicholas. “I heard you were planning to come up here this weekend, so I thought I should meet you at the airport.”

 _How did he know…? Bah, never mind!_ Nicholas shoved the paper back into his backpack, nodding at Mr. Lawrence. He shook the lawyer’s hand out of formality, still feeling awkward around the man. “Yeah, I just got off the plane and was getting ready to call a cab to head to the office.”

“Perfect. We can go together then. I’ve got some other paperwork to take care of at the studio’s branch office anyway.”

Mr. Lawrence turned on his heel and started walking towards the exit. Nicholas quickly followed, pushing past the few crowds of people and coming back out into the bright sunlight and the noise of Queens. He squinted against the light until his eyes readjusted and saw Mr. Lawrence standing next to a taxi.

“Coming?” The handsome lawyer stood at the taxi’s backdoor like a butler. Nicholas blushed slightly and quickly had both his suitcase in the trunk and himself in the backseat. Mr. Lawrence slid in next to him and closed the door with a **_SNAP._**

“Where to?” asked the cabbie.

“2829 Prospect St, Brooklyn,” Mr. Lawrence’s voice was crisp.

“Sure thing! That’ll be about a fifteen minute ride, withholding what the traffic does. Standard fare applies.”

“That’s fine. Please, begin.”

The cabbie gave another nod and pulled off into traffic. Mr. Lawrence reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a metal cigarette case. He offered one to Nicholas and he readily accepted. They were a brand Nicholas had never heard of, but he wasn’t one to pass up a free smoke. Mr. Lawrence lit up and took a draw. He looked sideways over at Nicholas who was lighting up his own cigarette. This young man truly did resemble…

“Mr. Katz, may I ask you something?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ==>The author has something to say<==  
> \- Things appear to be getting interesting...


	6. Title Deeds

The atmosphere of the cab became extremely awkward after Mr. Lawrence finished his sentence, mainly because the lawyer didn’t continue with his question. He just sat there in his seat, smoking his cigarette and staring out the window. Nicholas was left with the heavy air and an even more unpleasant mood. 

_What the fuck, dude. Don’t sit there and ask if it’s alright to ask a question and then don’t ask it._ He drew on his own cigarette, scowling as he looked out into the New York traffic. Just as he was starting to think that coming to the city was a mistake after all, Mr. Lawrence spoke again.

“You quit your job?”

Nicholas’s mouth hung open in a bit of shock. _How the fu- Are you spying on me?!_

Mr. Lawrence saw Nicholas’s stare and chuckled lightly. “Archgate Studios happens to be a large supporter for many smaller media magazines and publishing companies in Chicago, New York and Los Angeles. When one of our branches goes under, my department is sent out to investigate and take collateral. Your name happened to be on the list of former employees for this particular publisher that recently fell.”

Nicholas couldn’t take it anymore and disgustedly tossed his half smoked cigarette out the taxi window. “So, you just wanted to ask me about my shitty former boss?”

“Hardly,” Mr. Lawrence replied. “That man is currently being held on charges of tax fraud and employee harassment. There’s enough evidence being uncovered for him to go to jail for at least twenty-five years, if not longer. Oh, look, we’re here.”

The cab pulled over and parked itself next to a small row of office buildings. Mr. Lawrence paid the cabbie and got out. Nicholas followed suit, examining the offices. They were very plain and non-descript; neither modern nor antique. If Nicholas had to guess their architecture style age, they’d be in the 1930 to 1940s range. They stood about five to six stories tall and were connected up for an entire block with a break in the middle. Several business signs were tacked onto the outside of the building’s façade, indicating what was keeping dealings inside.

“Would you care for lunch?” Mr. Lawrence gestured over towards the coffee shop that was just across the street. “I’m feeling a bit peckish and the food at the shop is quite good. My treat.”

“Uhh, sure, I guess,” Hearing the news about his old boss being arrested for tax fraud had made him a little happier, but he still was feeling a bit sour. Maybe eating something would improve his bad temper. The pair crossed the street and entered the coffee shop. Its door gave a small little _ding ding_.

“Welcome to Prospect’s Grinds, what can I get you day?” The cashier’s still childish voice echoed out towards Nicholas and Mr. Lawrence.

“A black coffee with a double shot espresso, please. And one of those little chicken sub sandwiches.” Mr. Lawrence gently pushed Nicholas towards the front counter. “Add whatever he wants to the order as well.”

Nicholas suddenly felt shy and just ordered a plain black coffee as well. The young cashier repeated the order and Mr. Lawrence paid. The coffees were up quick as a wink and the sandwich just as fast. They gathered up their drinks and walked back to the office building.

The sign above the door was labeled “Cohen, Lawrence and Grants Law Offices, Inc.” The pair was greeted by a front secretary and Mr. Lawrence casually mentioned that he was taking Nicholas to his office to discuss some private matters. The secretary nodded and scribbled something on a notepad.

“I’m honestly surprised you decided to come up so soon,” Mr. Lawrence said, pushing the door of a large office space. He set his briefcase, sandwich bag and coffee down on the desk and then pulled open a drawer of the file cabinet behind him. “I was expecting you to come and claim the estate closer to the middle of the month.”

“Well, truth be told, I would rather have a broker handle the estate and the sale of the assets,” Nicholas replied, taking a sip of his coffee. He scrunched his face, forgetting he had ordered black coffee. “Do you have any sugar packets?”

“Yes, one moment…here you are.” Mr. Lawrence handed Nicholas a plastic box of packets. With a folder in one hand and a black tin in the other, Mr. Lawrence took his seat behind his desk. “You don’t want any of the assets yourself?”

Nicholas shook his head. “I never met the man, why would I want his belongings? He was my grandfather’s friend.”

Mr. Lawrence popped open the tin and took off the lid of his coffee, humming with a small smile at the way Nicholas said ‘friend’. He dropped something that looked like a licorice candy into the coffee, looking up at Nicholas. “Yet you still laid claim to the estate. Why bother if you’re just going to sell it anyway?” He plopped another candy into the coffee and the drink became even thicker and darker looking.

Nicholas watched as the coffee became something not unlike dark, viscous ink with the addition of a third candy. It was stirred and then sipped by the lawyer who was now staring at a set of papers. Nicholas had no idea what the things in the black tin were, nor did he want to know. He set the matter of the coffee aside and shrugged.

“Call it curiosity”

“Hmm. Well, at any rate, take these please.” Mr. Lawrence handed Nicholas a few pieces of paper.

“What’s this?”

“Property title deeds. I forgot to give these to you during my other visit. Mr. Drew owned several buildings that were transferred to Archgate when his company declared bankruptcy in 1959. The bankruptcy sale clause stated that if Archgate was unable to make improvements and revitalize Mr. Drew’s original work by Mr. Drew’s death, it would be given up and divided per his will. Everything in your hands is now yours.”

Nicholas looked down in disbelief at the deeds in his hands. “That’s…that’s so…I can’t just take ownership of this many buildings at once! What kind of messed up sale contract is that?! Who agrees to something that outrageous?!”

“I understand your concern but Mr. Drew and Mr. Arch were good lifelong friends. I’ve already arranged for someone to come and assist you with the walkthrough of the buildings. We’ve also moved most of Mr. Drew’s belongings from his Brooklyn apartment to a storage unit. It’s all up to you as to what will be done, so what would you like to do?”

Nicholas thought back to the journals his grandfather had kept up to his disappearance and sighed. Going through whatever Joey had left behind might provide new clues as to what happened to his grandfather. Nicholas felt that he owed Henry that much at least. On the one hand he could just give everything back to Archgate and wash his hands entirely of the matter. On the other, he could go and actually investigate. 

Nicholas glanced back at Mr. Lawrence savoring his coffee. The lawyer was still looking over some stacks of papers. He had removed his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up, revealing a shiny silver Rolex watch on his left wrist. His father might have been the musician, but Nicholas still thought the trade of a lawyer didn’t match his personality. 

“He was an animator, right?”

Mr. Lawrence peered over the top of his paperwork. “What’s that?”

“Mr. Drew, I mean. My grandfather never talked about working for an animation studio, so I’d never heard of the man until you showed up at my door that day.”

“Your grandfather…disappeared back in 1963, yes?” Mr. Lawrence put down his papers and took another sip of his coffee. Nicholas nodded slightly, not sure as to where the conversation was headed. 

Mr. Lawrence’s expression became complicated as he leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Katz…I do not say this lightly but…Mr. Drew was a man who longed to be remembered. You may do well to look closely at what he has left behind.”

Nicholas gulped as he felt a shiver zip down his spine. Right at that moment, the office’s door opened and a dark toned guy with thick glasses popped his head in.

“Oi, Sammy you got-,” The man stopped mid-sentence when he saw Nicholas sitting in a client chair. He stared at Nicholas for a few seconds before turning back to Mr. Lawrence. “Sorry Sammy, I didn’t realize you had a client in here.”

“It’s fine. We were about to leave anyway. What do you need, Rob?” Mr. Lawrence’s tone was cold and he was giving the man now called Rob a rather pointed glare.

“Uh, well…Oliver just called. He was asking about those buildings over on the riverfront again.”

“Yes, the client who’s taking over ownership of those is here today,” Mr. Lawrence replied. “Mr. Franks can be rest assured he’ll be keeping his maintenance job for upkeep on them for the time being. You can call him back and tell him we’ll be meeting him at the property tomorrow at 2pm.”

Rob nodded and made to leave, but Mr. Lawrence called out once more.

“Oh and Robert, one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

Mr. Lawrence’s glare got absolutely deadly as he half smiled at his co-worker. “I told you to stop calling me Sammy. It’s either Samuel or Mr. Lawrence. I’d hate to have to fire you over something this inane.”

Rob’s face went ghostly pale and his glasses slipped as he vanished from the doorframe. The door swung shut behind him with a _click_. Mr. Lawrence turned back to Nicholas, that same venomous half smile on his face as he picked up his telephone receiver.

“Now then, Mr. Katz…let’s see about getting you to your hotel for the weekend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ==>The author has something to say<==  
> \- Hmmm...what's Sammy adding to his coffee, licorice? Eww, making it so thick...are you trying to drink ink? Wait...then are those candies...@_@;;  
> \- Sorry for all the exposition! We gotta set up everything before the real action can start, but we're getting there! We're going to go visit the storage unit after Nicholas sees the old studio buildings. Then the mystery really gets under way.


	7. Truths Are in the Ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna drop this here before I forget; I totally recommend checking out Elwensa @ DeviantArt and her Bendy AU comics! They are a fantastic take at Henry's attempt to break the cycle and escape the nightmare Joey sacrificed Henry's soul to. The writing is wonderful and I love the simplistic yet emotional art as well. Please go check out her work and give her some love!

Nicholas ended up staying at the office and discussing in further detail what these properties were and decided right then and there which ones to let go of before things got too complicated. There was some large acreage on Manhattan Beach which seemed to have been bought and partially developed at some point in time. Nicholas asked about what that much land would be wanted for. Mr. Lawrence off-handedly mentioned that plans for a theme park had been in the works there, but due to the War and budget constraints, the project ultimately never came to a head and the land had been left as is since. Nicholas had no use for such a thing and quickly reassigned the title back over to Archgate Studios.

There was also a small shop and residence building that had sat empty for decades in New Jersey and something that appeared to be an old art gallery also located on Fifth Avenue included in the deeds. Those too, Nicholas saw no need to keep and easily reassigned ownership back to Archgate Studios there in Mr. Lawrence’s office. When all was said and done, the only things Nicholas had decided to hold onto were the two converted warehouses in the Meatpacking District in Manhattan, located right on the riverfront and the storage unit in the Upper West Side containing all of the old man’s belongings.

When Nicholas inquired more about the warehouses, Mr. Lawrence simply chuckled and stated, “You’ll understand when you see them.”

It was very late in the evening when Nicholas was finally able to check into his hotel. He tossed his backpack to the room’s desk and flopped himself face first onto the single bed. He was exhausted from the day’s events and felt he had never been so pushed and pulled in all his life. The more he thought about it, the more he felt there was more going on than just what was presented on the surface. The sudden appearance of the properties was suspicious to him at the very least; Nicholas felt that that sort of thing should have been left with Archgate and not mashed in with an estate and will. 

Nicholas groaned with his face in the pillow, not wanting to move from his spot. “Tomorrow is going to be miserable…I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have bothered with any of this after all…”

He forced himself to roll over with great difficulty and heaved a great sigh. Nicholas looked over to his right at the window overlooking the Brooklyn streets. The hotel Mr. Lawrence had gotten him put up in wasn’t too shabby; certainly not fancy by any means but not a rundown shack either. It was located right in-between the Upper West Side and the Meatpacking District. While Nicholas hadn’t lived in New York before, he had worked here and he was well aware of the reputation of that area of the city. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be visiting such a seedy and dirty place, but if what Mr. Lawrence was hinting at was true, those warehouses might be holding more than just broken glass and nasty graffiti.* _(See end of chapter for notes on this)_

Nicholas felt his eyes drooping as he lay there on the soft bed. He was supposed to call his mother as soon as he’d settled in, but he was honestly so tired he didn’t feel like he had the energy to relay everything that had happened today. His thoughts drifted to the journals of his grandfather’s he’d brought with him. They had been placed into his suitcase along with his clothes for the weekend. Nicholas had the intention of reading them either on the way up or on his way back. But maybe he could read them now…?

Nicholas quickly got up, tossing off his windbreaker and kicking off his Vans while digging into the inner pocket of his suitcase near the end of the bed. He pulled out the second journal, and with it fell two pieces of papers from the inside of the cover. Nicholas reached down, picking them up. One was a letter addressed to his grandfather dated 1937 from a Miss Abigail Lambert and the other was…a drawing.

The drawing was old and yellowed, much like the paper of the journals. The paper also appeared to be a bit crumpled…? But unlike the journal paper, this drawing was stained with heavy blights of ink spatter, obscuring much of the original content. It was like someone was trying to erase what had been drawn in a fit of bitterness. Nicholas squinted at the inked lines and could somewhat make out what looked like a cartoon design. At the top of the drawing in bold red ink was the word “REJECTED”. Maybe this was from his grandfather’s time at the old animation studio? Nicholas didn’t know his grandfather well enough to say why Henry had chosen to keep an old sketch from a time he would have rather forgotten.

Nicholas gently set both the letter and the old drawing on the bed stand and leaned back onto the bed’s headboard with the pillow cushioning him. He opened up the journal to the middle part and scanned the page’s contents. A few words immediately jumped out at him.

**_November 13 th, 1940 – _ **

**_The papers have been getting worse and worse. Even the one I’m working for is having me draw the most awful political cartoons…I wonder…is Germany really getting so bold again?_ **

Nicholas flipped to another page, making the note that this must be right before his grandfather went back to war. He spied another chilling entry:

**_February 9 th, 1941_ **

**_It’s only been two months. Linda has been crying for days on end since my papers came. She keeps saying I shouldn’t bother sending one to the studio but…I just feel wrong otherwise. I don’t have the heart to tell Henrietta yet. Abby has been sending letters almost weekly ever since the bombing with updates. She at least deserves to know. I bet Joey will try to avoid fighting just so he can try keeping the studio open. True Joey Drew fashion…the selfish man._ **

The more Nicholas was learning, the more he was beginning to understand that Mr. Drew never truly appreciated his grandfather’s talent until it was too late. And even then, the so called ‘olive-branch’ that Mr. Drew extended as an apology resulted in Henry vanishing from existence. There was never enough concrete evidence to pin it, but his family had long suspected Mr. Drew had something to do with Henry’s disappearance. Nicolas had been a young boy at the time and thus never told the real reasons behind his grandfather’s ‘death’ until now.

Nicholas continued reading more entries in the journal. They were mostly bits and pieces of Henry’s time overseas for a second time. The bitterness in the entries was palatable as Nicholas read it. Henry spoke of the harsh realities of war and how it didn’t matter whose ‘side’ you were on…in the end, they still were dying for nothing. Just like before. He spoke of how being away from his wife and now pre-teen daughter was almost as bad as if he were still working at the studio. The hours passed by as Nicholas immersed himself in his grandfather’s memoirs and before long, his tired eyes had closed to the small doodles of caricatured platoon mates of Henry’s.

**_March 17 th, 1944 – _ **

**_Another one in the squad died today…it was the gangrene this time. That makes…twelve in total that have gone in this little supply team. We came into a liberated town today as well and there was a theater playing some American films. I shouldn’t have, but my curiosity got the better of me. That damn face…that…that devil…so he’s even made is way over here, huh? I’m just going to be forever mocked by you, huh Joey?_ **

The gruff yet gentle voice of his grandfather ‘Henry’ drifted through Nicholas’s sleeping mind as a scene unfolded before him. Just like the dreams before, it was like a movie and Nicholas had no control of the happenings around him. A woman with a round face and bouncy short brown curls was standing next to a desk with an anxious expression. Her arms were crossed and she kept shaking her head, making those curls bounce even more.

“Please, Henry, reconsider. I know Joey isn’t-,”

“I don’t care anymore.” The now recognizable voice of ‘Henry’ came out. “I’ve put up with this for a year. All I asked for was a single month off and he couldn’t even do that. He’s been ignoring me for the last week, Abby. I’m tired of it.”

‘Henry’ turned and walked across the room towards a narrow hallway, but was caught on the arm by ‘Abby’. Her expression was even more desperate now.

“Henry, don’t! I…what will we be, if not an empty shell? If…if you go…this studio was built on your back! I know that, you know that!”

‘Henry’ shook ‘Abby’s’ hand off. “It’s precisely because I know that that I should be treated better than this. Joey doesn’t seem to realize that. I’m just sorry I was too blinded to see it sooner.”

‘Abby’ retreated, having never heard her friend speak like this before. Normally, he was quiet and a reserved sort of man. Hearing a tone of anger from him was alarming to say the least. ‘Henry’ had already stormed off down the hallway, heading for what looked for an office at the end of it. ‘Abby’ quickly recovered and went chasing after him, calling his name, but it was too late. ‘Henry’ pushed open the office door without any warning, slamming it to the wall behind it.

“ _Joey!_ ” ‘Henry’ shouted into the room. The man sitting at the desk with a large window behind him looked up with a bit of mild shock. His hair was neatly parted to the side and a very thin moustache traced his upper lip. Nicholas looked at the light in this man’s eyes and thought it seemed fake.

_Just another wolf…this Joey Drew…_

As soon as that thought entered his awareness, the scene before him vanished into darkness. Nicholas should have been shocked, but by now, this was the third time this had happened. He was beginning to get used to it. He stood there, stock still, waiting for whatever this nightmare had in store. However, he was not expecting the next scene;

_“Joey…what are we going to do…?”_

_“What you mean? We’re going to press on, just like always.”_

The area around Nicholas was still dark, but the voices that were whispering were echoing loud and clear as if in a tin can in this space. One was a woman’s voice, the other a man’s. Were these…?

The woman’s voice shuddered as she spoke hesitantly. _“But Joey…Sammy…he…he’s already…”_

The man who Nicholas now labeled as Joey scoffed and reprimanded the woman. _“Nevermind Sammy! I’ve already had that taken care of! Tommy is making sure the ink is still coming as planned.”_

_“Joey, this is insane!”_ The woman’s voice now cracked as she practically shrieked. _“Four people have DIED! And we don’t know how many are missing! Are you planning to sacrifice the entire studio at this point?!”_

There was a heavy silence in the darkness before an odd snigger started up. It escalated into a sort of maniacal laughter before abruptly stopping.

_“Oh…my dear sweet Abigail. I thought you understood me, my vision, my philosophy…my Illusion of Living…but it seems I was wrong once again. I guess I can only trust myself after all.”_

_“Wait…what are you…Joey…what are you…!”_

The desperate shrill screams of a woman faded into the unfaltering darkness, only to be replaced with the ceiling of a hotel room. Nicholas’s eyes had snapped open as if electrified. His chest heaved as he tried to bring his breathing back down to a controlled pace; his heart rate wasn’t doing much better either. He was absolutely drenched in sweat and was lying on the bed in a pile of damp sheets and blankets.

After a couple minutes, Nicholas got up from the bed and went to the bathroom, trembling slightly. The bathroom was small and cramped, barely fit to hold the tub, toilet and sink. Nicholas turned on the faucet and proceeded to splash a generous amount of water on his face and head. He was shaken at the thought of having just witnessed a murder. Was it actually a murder, though? At this point he couldn’t tell. These nightmares were so realistic; it was hard to distinguish them from fabrications or realities.

_*drip* *drip* *drip*_

The sound of the water mixed in with Nicholas’s ragged gasps. Then he noticed that what was splashing onto the countertop was not just water. It was darker and didn’t want to blend as easily with the water on the counter. It just sat there in big black patches, pooling slowly and unevenly around Nicholas’s clenched hands. It was only then that he realized what it was.

**_…*DRIP*…*DRIP*…*DRIP*…_ **

Nicholas’s gaze rose up to look into the mirror and what greeted his eyes horrified him. Thick, black ink was soaked into Nicholas’s hair, dripping down part of his face and down his neck, into his t-shirt and soaking through the cotton material. His dark eyes had turned a bright golden color, reflecting eerily in the mirror. Nicholas staggered backwards, tripping over the edge of the bathtub and falling. The shower curtain came down with him and he was entangled, shouting in a frenzied panic. He twisted wildly to the left and whacked his head on the built in soap dish.

As he began to pass out in a daze, he thought he heard something like child-like giggling and someone singing.

**_“Never forget the ones there on paper; we’ll forever be there to see you._ **

**_The ink will always be there to flow and the machine will remember~_ **

**_So do well and beware of the demon once made by the man named Drew.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ==>The author has something to say<==  
> On the note of the Meatpacking District: I think I said it at the beginning of the story, but I have this all starting in the year 1983. Joey originally had his studio in one of these old warehouses, as stated in The Illusion of Living. If you're not from New York, you may not know that this area of Manhattan was once rampant with gay sex brothels and similar nightclubs all throughout the 1960s, 1970s, and up until the mid 1980s before it was all shut down by the city and police. In the 1990s, the area experienced a revival and is now a bougie sort of high-end commercial district with stores, restaurants and a few small breweries in the various renovated warehouses.  
> If you suffer from chronic nightmares, especially ones that involve sleep paralysis, then you can sort of understand the effect I'm going for when I'm writing these "encounter" scenes. If not, I recommend looking up the illness and its effects on individuals. Sleep paralysis and the mental issues it can cause are terrifying and should never be treated lightly. Please be gentle to your friends and family members with mental health problems. Not all scars can be seen.  
> I'm really looking forward to using Nathan Arch later on. From what I've been reading in the newest release, Nathan holds Joey on a very high pedestal and the man could do no wrong. Nathan also seems to hate Henry with a passion. So...yes...this will work quite well later on. How you ask? You'll just have to wait and see my dear little readers :3


	8. The Fall of a Studio

Nicholas awoke with another abrupt start, disorientated and slightly unsure of where he was. It took him a good few seconds to realize that he was no longer in the bathroom’s tub, but back on the bed. He was still in his jeans and t-shirt, with his grandfather’s journal sitting next to him slightly off to the side. He quickly looked down and tore at his shirt; not a single stain of black ink could be found on the white cotton.

Daring not to believe it, Nicholas leapt from the bed and bolted into the bathroom. There was no sign of the fall and struggle with the shower curtain and no sign of any of the ink puddles. The bathroom was completely clean and the curtain was in its place. It was as if the event from the night before hadn’t even occurred.

Just as Nicholas was about to think himself insane, the room’s telephone rang. He left the bathroom and picked up the receiver, getting a sudden sense of déjà vu.

“Hello?”

“Good morning. Am I speaking with a Mr. Nicholas Katz?” It sounded like one of the little receptionists at the front desk. Nicholas coughed slightly, answering yes to the receptionist. He could almost see her smile as she said, “You have a call waiting on our guest line. All charges will be billed to your room should you choose to accept this call. Do you accept this call?”

“Yes, that’s fine, put it through.” Nicholas figured it was probably Mr. Lawrence calling to check-in on their scheduled meet-up. He glanced at the clock and was shocked to see that it was nearly noon. The other end of the receiver clicked to connect.

“Hello? Mr. Katz?”

Nicholas didn’t recognize the voice. “Yes, speaking. Who is this?”

The speaker apologized. “Ah, sorry, you don’t know me, but we met briefly yesterday. I’m Robert Fain, from the law office. I’m Sammie’s- I mean, Mr. Lawrence’s assistant. You can call me Rob.”

“Oh. I see.” Nicholas paused and there was a very awkward silence over the phone. Nicholas tried to keep the conversation going, thinking that maybe this Rob was a bit absent minded. “Um, what happened to Mr. Lawrence?”

“Hmm? Oh…Oh! Right, right! That’s what I was calling you about!” Rob seemed to smack himself on the forehead and Nicholas could just see those glasses go sliding. “Sammie has something urgent come up with a bigger client and had to go take care of that. So I’m gonna be taking you to the warehouses today in his stead.”

“Alright then, I don’t mind. That’s at 2pm, right?” Nicholas asked, just to reconfirm.

“Actually, about that…,” Rob’s voice trailed off on the phone. “We ended up having to move the time up to 1pm ‘cause Ollie had family issues with his granddad and brother. I’m on my way over from the office to get you right now. I’ll see you in 20 minutes. Bye!”

The phone’s receiver clicked off and an automated voice said, _“To extend this collect call, please insert another twenty-five cents…to extend this…”_

Nicholas hung up his own receiver and sat at bit dumbfounded. Did he even have enough time to shower? Well…maybe just a spit bath…when was the last time he’d taken a proper shower? Nicholas didn’t think too much on that, quickly threw off his t-shirt and jeans and jumped in the bathtub for a scrub down. By the time he was done, fifteen minutes had passed. He swore inwardly and scrambled to dress and gather up his things, barely managing to grab is backpack before heading out his hotel door and to the elevator and lobby.

As soon as the doors pinged opened, Nicholas scanned the lobby. He immediately noticed the lanky junior lawyer standing near the front counter. His thick glasses were, Nicholas thought once again, ill-suited for his square face and hid a good portion of that defined jawline. He was also wearing a strangely formal looking hat that didn’t match his causal pullover sweater vest and button-up dress shirt. Nicholas’s approaching footsteps must have been loud, because Rob looked up from the notebook he was scrutinizing and smiled congenially at him.

“Were you waiting long?” Nicholas asked, knowing his hair was still damp and looked messy.

Rob didn’t seem to mind and put his notebook away. “Not really, I just got here actually. I was getting ready to call up to your room. You saved me a bit of a hassle.”

“Ah, I see. So…should we go and call a cab then?”

“No need. I drove over here myself.”

Nicholas’s eyes widened a bit. “You own your own car?”

“Yeah, sure. Why is that so surprising?” Rob looked at Nicholas oddly as they exited the hotel.

“No, it’s just…I would have figured living in New York it would be cheaper to use the public transport.”

Rob laughed heartily at Nicholas’s honest and innocent answer. “I get that a lot. But I live across the river in New Jersey. So having my own vehicle in the long run is more cost effective than taking the Metro every day.”

Rob stopped then in front of a small line of cars parked on the side of the street. “Here it is.”

Nicholas didn’t see what he was talking about. “Here where?”

“Right there.” Rob walked a little more and squeezed in between a wide Cadillac and a Pontiac to the left side of the ugliest green painted Ford Pinto hatchbach Nicholas had ever seen. With Rob standing next to it in his green and black argyle sweater vest and gray tweed slacks, Nicholas could hardly contain his laughter. They often said a car sometimes looked like their owner.

“Let’s get going. I told Ollie we’d be there around 1 or 1:30 and we’re already running a bit late.”

Nicholas snorted and quietly agreed. Rob thankfully didn’t seem to pick up on the silent joke and the two pulled off into afternoon Manhattan traffic in the little Pinto. For being a seven year old car, it was very well kept; the interior was spotless. Nicholas glanced over at Rob at the wheel and then up at the hat stuffed atop his dense curly hair. It looked small compared to the amount of hair it was trying to contain. Finally, Nicholas couldn’t contain his curiosity.

“So…can I ask you something…Robert, was it?”

“It’s just Rob. And sure, go ahead. I like to think of myself as a pretty casual guy.”

Nicholas’s eyes looked at the black homburg on Rob’s head again as the man took a left turn at a streetlight. He sighed and just bluntly asked: “What’s up with the hat?”

“Eh?” Rob seemed taken aback by Nicholas’s question. “My hat?” He even touched the top of his head as if to acknowledge that the hat was really there. “What about my hat?”

Nicholas groaned inwardly and wondered just down dense this guy was. “It seems a bit…formal for what you’re wearing.”

“Hahahahahahahahaha!!!” Rob just started laughing rowdily at that statement. He tapered off after awhile, tears in the corners of his eyes. “I knew I’d like you! No one’s ever asked me about this hat before, they usually just stare at it and just go about their business. Truth be told, I got it as an internship gift from Sammie. He said when he saw it in the shop, he was suddenly reminded of me and he just bought it on impulse. Never fails to get a rise out of Sammie every time I wear it though. I tell you what; Sammie’s always trying to put on the airs of a guy who’s cold and indifferent, but he really does care about his people. It’s almost…almost like he’s trying to make up for something? I dunno, don’t mind me, I’m just rambling…”

Nicholas listened to Rob cheerily go on about work at the law office for the next ten or so minutes. There wasn’t anything bad Nicholas could say about this guy. He seemed like a genuinely good person who enjoyed his job as an assistant law clerk. After another left turn, they arrived into a small enclosed parking lot on 16th st. It was surrounded by a tall, thick chain link fence and was completely empty save for one other car inside. It was a bright red ’81 Nissan Skyline and stuck out like a sore thumb in this derelict neighborhood.

As Rob parked next to the Skyline, a stocky looking guy with long greasy black hair pulled into a short ponytail got out of the red sedan. He had a white baseball cap on with the logo of the Tampa Rays on its front, along with a blue plaid shirt and some raggety looking jeans. Rob got out of his Pinto and this guy slapped the top of his Skyline’s roof.

“Jeez, Robbie, I was beginnin’ to wonda! I’ve been waiting fifteen whole minutes in this dump for yous ta show up!” His voice was a tad on the coarse side, but Nicholas was surprised at how similar it sounded to the ‘Wally’ from his dreams.

Rob just shrugged his shoulder. “I can’t help how traffic goes, Ollie, you know that. Besides, you’re the one who had the family-,”

“Yeah, yeah, whatevers.” The guy named Ollie brushed off Rob’s explanation and looked over at Nicholas coming around the back side of the green Pinto. His eyes narrowed a bit. “So this is the guy who’s takin’ over the buildings?”

Before Rob had a chance to introduce Nicholas, Ollie came around the side of his Skyline and stood defiantly in front of Nicholas, eying him up and down. Ollie was only a few inches shorter than Nicholas, but he gave off a presence that said he’d take a punch without a flinch. After a few seconds, Ollie broke out into a huge grin and stuck out his hand towards Nicholas.

“Heya, nice ta meetcha. The name’s Oliver, Oliver Franks, but most everyone calls me Ollie.”

“Nick…L-likewise…” Nicholas took the handshake. He hesitated a bit before asking. “Are you related to a Wally Franks by chance?”

Ollie’s eyes brightened up at once at the mention of that name and he almost jumped in place. “Oh! So you knows my granddaddy?! Wow, that’s something else! I thought for sure after Granddaddy went to the home, Mama made sure he stopped sendin’ the letters out.”

“I…uh…no…that’s not…wait…letters?” Nicholas’s confusion became even more apparent.

Ollie’s shoulders drooped a bit in disappointment. “Ah, no, sorry, that’s my fault then. Me and my brother, Shermie, plus my dad and my uncles and my cousins…we all help run the family business Granddaddy built up from the ground when he left this place. He used to take care of these buildings way back in the day. But see, Granddaddy’s not quite in the same mind anymore…and he…”

A very awkward silence followed Ollie’s trailing voice. Rob coughed and readjusted his glasses, trying to keep his smile professional.

“O-okay, enough of that! We’re here for a walkthrough of the properties! Ollie, did you bring the keys?”

“Course I did, I’m not that absent-minded.” Ollie reached into his pocket and pulled out a key-ring of mismatched silver and brass keys. After going and locking up the parking lot’s fence gates, Ollie picked out a large brass key and came up to the padlock on the side door of the large redbrick building standing near them. 

This brick building stood about three stories tall, with windows only on the second and third floors. Several of the windows were boarded up and there were patches of dirt and dead grass around the side door. Another boarded up door stood on another side of the building with a torn awning overhanging it. Two long windows stood on either side of this door and they too were boarded up.

“Alrighty, I got it opened up. But I gotta be honest withcha…I haven’t been inside these buildings before. They give me the creeps.”

Nicholas was flabbergasted. “You’ve never been inside? But I thought you were the maintenance guy for them.”

“Yeah, I am. But I’m more like a glorified groundskeeper. I just come by every few weeks and make sure nothin’s damaged. Ain’t never been in on account’sa what Archgate’s contracted me and my company for ever since they bought the properties. They didn’t even do nothin’ with the buildings after that fire broke out in ’75 in the back warehouse.”

“Fire?” Nicholas now glanced over to Rob who was looking a bit nervous. “Mr. Lawrence didn’t mention that these buildings had had a fire.”

“Umm…well…it should have been mentioned on the titles…” Rob fiddled with his glasses. “At the very least, Sammie should have said _something_ …”

“Oh, you’re calling Mr. Lawrence Sammie now?” Ollie’s eyebrows nearly shot off his face. “Damn, I didn’t know that bastard had a heart. Must be nice to be liked that much.”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Nicholas pinched the area between his eyes. “What do you mean there was a fire? How bad was it?”

Rob groaned and rubbed his temples. “I think it would be easier to just see it rather than to explain it. Come on, let’s go inside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ==>The author has something to say<==  
> Ooohhh, we finally get to see the inside of the old studio! And it's not the demonic, cycle-locked studio either. I'm looking forward to telling you about the studio's fire 0o0/ As always, if you have some ideas or suggestions for something, please let me know.  
> Robbie isn't related to Jack, just happens to [unluckily] have the same surname. And Sammie...well maybe he's feeling a bit guilty?  
> Ollie has a very large family! Two uncles, an aunt, plus his older brother Sherman, and a younger sister. Not mention all the cousins and their families! Nearly everyone lives down in Tampa, FL, but Ollie's dad and one of the uncles moved up to New Jersey when the family business needed to expand.


	9. The Basement Level

The three of them entered the first building, walking over the chips of broken and cracked concrete and glass with a resound and echoing **_*CRUNCH*._** They were coming in through a side door and not the main entrance and Nicholas quickly saw why; the entire first floor of the studio was gutted. All he could see in the sparse light were thick concrete pillars reminiscent of the building’s former life as a meatpacking plant holding up the ceiling above them. The ceiling itself had what appeared to be damage holes punched through and that’s where the light was coming in from. Without those, it would be completely black down here.

“Why is it still so dark?” Nicholas asked quickly, trying to find his bearings. It smelled of dampness and significant age down here and the less time Nicholas had to spend here, the better.

“I don’t kno-ouch! You stepped on my foot!” Rob’s voice echoed out across the large space as he yelled out in pain.

“Sorry…but it’s so dark I can’t hardly see my own hand in front of my face…” Ollie’s own voice sounded pitiful as he apologized to the lanky lawyer.

Nicholas shook his head. There was still quite a bit of light coming in from the open door behind them, so why was it still so dark in this basement-like space? That outside light should be flooding this area…

“Hey, Ollie…you didn’t happen to bring a flashlight with you?”

Nicholas could see the gears turning in the guy’s brain as he blinked slowly at him. Then his mouth dropped open and he let out a shout of realization.

“Ah! AH! Right, RIGHT! Hang on a second, I’ll be right back!” Ollie nearly knocked Rob over as he shot out of the open side door and then returned a few minutes later with three large MagLight flashlights.

“Dad always said I should have a few of these with me. Guess it turned out he was right.” Ollie grinned like a fool as he clicked his on. He swung it around, peering around with the beam of light at various things in the space. He whistled sharply at the amount of damage.

“Wow…holy moly…no wonder it’s so dark in here…the soot and smoke from that fire must have spread all the way down here. Everythin’s coated in a black smudgey somethin’ er other.”

“Soot?” Nicholas was curious at Ollie’s mention of the mysterious fire again. Ollie nodded and pointed towards one of the large concrete pillars. It was speckled with black spots and stains as well as mold. Pieces from the wooden ceiling above were also hanging broken and swaying.

“Yeah, just look at all that. Gross. That’d cause ya ta get sick for sure, soon as ya touch it I bet. Hey! Where ya going?!”

Nicholas had turned on his own flashlight and was walking deeper into the building. “I came here for a tour of _my_ properties, so that’s what I’m going to do. You can stay here if you want.”

Rob and Ollie gave each other looks and quickly followed after Nicholas’s fading footsteps. As it turned out, this basement like floor wasn’t as gutted as Nicholas had first thought. He soon noticed something that appeared to be drywall put up in the far left corner of the wide space.

Nicholas passed by a few more support pillars, across the filthy brick floor and saw that it was actually a massive steam powered boiler furnace heating system. Huge webs of pipes were sprawling out of the boiler. The drywall he’d seen was made up into a small box-like structure next to the boiler and stuffed in-between the wire wall structure like a make-shift office space. Two windows with broken blinds and locked plywood door labeled “Maintenance Main Office” was slapped across the otherwise nondescript area. Next to the door an old clipboard hung, still with a sharpened pencil on a string and a line of hooks which might have held coats or keys.

“Jesus Christ! This boiler is _ancient_! I ain’t never seen nothin’ this old ‘cept when I was in trade school doing my trainin’!” Ollie was oogling the old boiler and complaining loudly about the state of the other HVAC things around it. “I betcha this is still original to the building. You know, you wouldda thought that after the war, when the technologies were all new and better, they’d have upgraded this stuff. Makes ya wonder how bad off the company really was. Granddaddy always was talking about how the studio liked to throw money around, but maybe they were worse off then they made people-,”

“What’s that over there?” Nicholas asked absently, shining his light towards the dirty walls. 

Ollie peered towards the illuminated area. It was more of the wire mesh walls enclosing off some of the deepest space of the dark basement. A metal door was put into that mesh wall with a large sign saying “Machine Maintenance, AUTHORIZED PERSONEL ONLY”.

“It’s probably for the larger, industrial machinery for the rest of the buildin’,” Ollie replied. “Like the motors for the elevators and the old coal storage for the furnace. Nothing too terribly interestin’. Besides, I don’t have keys for those locks and I didn’t bring bolt cutters. Oh hey, there’s the staircase!”

Ollie pointed past a Rob who was starting to sweat underneath his hat and glasses to a grimy, concrete staircase with rusted out railings leading up towards an old door. Rob sighed in relief and shook his sweater a bit.

“Thank god. I was afraid we were going to be stuck in this awful smelling basement for the rest of the afternoon.” He half ran over to the staircase, eager to make it up to the second level when he noticed something on the other side of the stairs. His head cocked to the side like a metronome as he looked curiously at the rusty caging.

“It’s an elevator,” Nicholas answered, making Rob jump halfway out of his skin as he came up behind him. He flipped his light back and forth around the locked sliding cage doors. “It probably serves the entire building. These doors slide open when you press the button and the second set behind them open for the actual elevator. It’s circa 1930 I think.”

“Yous probably right, Nick,” Ollie said, looking with a bit of awe at the antique elevator. “But this thing looks so rickety, I wouldn’t be ridin’ it anytime soon.” Ollie’s gaze shifted to the side of the stairs and noticed something odd.

“Hmm? Now, that’s somethin’ strange!”

“What?” Rob was still trying to recover from the shock Nicholas had given him and quite frankly, he was ready to just leave.

Ollie pointed his flashlight to what he had seen. There on the side of the staircase was a fairly modern looking electrical box. Unlike everything else around it, it looked clean and was emitting a low hum. Everyone’s eyes widened.

“This place has been abandoned for nearly thirty years…,” Rob’s voice was incredulous as he stared at the box.

“You’re absolutely right, Rob,” Nicholas was also looking at the electrical box with suspicion. “Why would an old building like this, especially one that’s undergone a fire, still have power running through it?”

Nicholas’s flashlight traced the thin rusted railing of the staircase and paused on the partially opened door at its crest. He noticed there were more strange looking pipes that didn’t look like duct work coming up from behind the wire mesh walls worming their way up through the brick walls and wooden ceiling and by passing the door leading to the upstairs. 

Nicholas narrowed his eyes, a harsh sinking feeling entering his gut. “What other secrets are you hiding, Mr. Drew?” he whispered uneasily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ==>The author has something to say<==  
> Hey yo, it's me again! So, I actually struggled (and am still sorta struggling) a lot with the layout of the "updated" studio. To help myself, I made up some drawings so I could use those for descriptive purposes and it did seem to work somewhat. I also pulled up floor plans of office spaces and what offices of the 1950s era would have looked like, because yeah, this place has gotten a bit of an overhaul since its opening in 1929. You can see some (and more drawings later, check back :3) here: https://www.deviantart.com/fir3h34rt  
> I've already decided we're not going to be able to explore these buildings in one go. Nick's gonna have to come back. Whether he comes back alone, or with somebody else is still up for debate but Robbie is already like NOPE I'M OUT xD and he's only seen the 1st floor/basement level.  
> On the layout description of this building; this studio was built in a former warehouse. There is no "actual" basement, meaning that there is no underground portion of the building (unless Joey had that added on later, but so far, we're not seeing it) This means the 1st floor is the "basement", the 2nd floor is the "main floor" or "1st floor" and the 3rd floor is the "2nd floor". It's considered a two-story building, despite it having three levels, because only two of the floors actually "functioned". Wow, ok history lesson done!  
> As always, thank you for reading~~~


	10. The Animation Factory

After being in the darkness of the underground basement area for so long, the group of three’s eyes was blinded by the brightness of the new area once Nicholas opened the door at the top of the stairwell. It took a few seconds, but their eyes eventually adjusted to a dingy tiled foyer with the same gilded caged door elevator. It lead out into what looked like an equally dingy small office-like reception area. Two single pane windows with skewed blinds stood on the opposite end of the room, filtering in whatever little bit of sunlight it could. Even though it was filthy from age, it was still mostly intact.

“This is such a big contrast to that basement,” Rob stated matter of factly while looking around. He looked to his right and noticed the boarded up front door. “Oohhh…do you think we should try to get that opened up?”

“Maybe later,” Nicholas replied. He noticed the narrow hallway leading down further into the building. A thick, heavy duty pipe was attached to the wall with brackets and was proceeding to leak a rusty substance onto the wooden floor. The pipe went all the way down the hallway and disappeared around the corner. 

Nicholas squatted down to examine the pipe closer. “What’s this pipe for? It doesn’t look like duct work.”

Ollie’s flashlight beamed over and down the dark hallway. He also squinted at the weirdly placed pipe. “Yous right…is this…plumbin’? Wait, that can’t be right…what the hell…?”

Nicholas straightened up and brushed off his jeans. “Well, whatever, let’s just get this done. We still have to go by the storage unit later. Rob!”

“I didn’t touch it!” Just like a child that’d been caught, Rob’s startled voice cracked as he jumped and whipped around. He had been busy checking out the receptionist’s desk and his movement ended up knocking over the old rotary dial telephone. He blushed under his dark curls and tried to sink into his shirt collar as it clattered to the floor.

Nicholas just rolled his eyes and started down the hallway. His two tails quickly followed, not wanting to be left behind in an old and creepy office. The hallway was, of course, mostly dark with a bit of light coming in from both ends. Nicholas could see that there things hanging on both sides of the hallway’s wall. The glass covering them was coated in such thick layers of dust and grime, it was impossible to see what was in the frames. Knowing how the decor was, they were most likely artwork or posters from the studio’s time in operation. 

Nicholas was expecting to come out into another office space, but what greeted him was nothing like that. He stopped dead and couldn’t help but let out a small gasp of disbelief.

“What in the world…?”

Presented before him was a large open floor, laid out with several old drafting desks in varying configurations along with some other large contraptions and machinery up against the far right wall. Bulky support columns were spotted in between the desks, each there to hold up the floor above it. The same single pane windows were dotted on the walls, lacking blinds and flooding the lifeless floor with bright yet cold sunglight. Nicholas could just see on the other end of the huge room two hallways along with electric EXIT signs above them. Overall, it was stark, detached and felt like a very uninviting place to work.

Nicholas leaned over the railing in front of him, gazing out into the room. Standing there, he felt like a supervisor over looking something like…

“This feels…this feels like a factory…not an art studio.” The disgust in his voice was apparent has he retracted his hands, wiping off the dirt and filth. “Why in the world would you want to work like this?”

“Maybe they didn’t have a choice,” Rob said, coming over. “Back in the 1950s, a lot of offices were set up in an open space like this. But you’re right, this doesn’t feel right. There’s something…definitely depressive about this.”

Rob pointed towards short staircase that lead down onto the factory-like art floor. He was also pointing towards that same large metal pipe from the previous hallway. It was worming its way down the stairs, then up the wall and onto the ceiling. The pipe on the ceiling now broke down into smaller pipes and zig-zagged all across the roof of the room, disappearing down into the two hallways at the end. Nicholas frowned at the pipes again, his brain working out scenarios.

“Ollie…you said those might be plumbing pipes?” Nicholas asked.

Ollie crossed his arms, the same frown as Nicholas’s distorting his face. “Hmmm…yeah, they could be…I mean, just lookin’ at the way this room is set up, leaving the plumbin’ exposed woulda made some sense, but I don’t see why they’d go and leave it exposed out in the nicer parts of the buildin’…unless this was somethin’ that was installed later?”

“Ok, let’s break it down to what we’ve got so far…for some reason, Archgate is still supplying this place with power despite it being abandoned _and_ having a fire some years ago. Why?”

“Maybe…they were planning to restore it at some point?” Rob offered, shrugging.

“I suppose…but if that was the case, then why leave everything like this when that fire occurred? Why not take action right then and there? I know for a fact that Archgate is not short of money these days. I’m also sure the city of New York has tried to put demolition permits on this place after that happened.”

“Yeah… _yeah…_ ,” Ollie looked like he was getting into the critical thinking, the shadows from his baseball cap obscuring his eyes a bit. “And then there’s these here pipes…what the hell are these things? I’ve been in HVAC my whole life and I ain’t never seen someone do such a shoddy job such as these. I mean look at these! These are tacked onto the wall with just brackets… _brackets!_ One good burst from an over-pressurized pipe and _BOOM!_ There goes ya whole system along with yas sewage or whatevers else yous pipin’ through in these things. Are these even welded together????”

Just as Ollie was about to go on a full rant examination of said pipe system, a very loud and ominous creaking noise echoed around the art studio’s floor. Ollie’s mouth immediately snapped shut and both he and Rob flew to Nicholas’s side.

“Did you hear that-“

“We’re the only ones-“

“We’re gonna die, I’ve seen this movie before-“

“Oh this is not how I imagined I’d go out-“

“Oh, will you two just _SHUT UP!”_ Nicholas shouted over both Ollie and Rob’s incessant terrified babbling and threw them off. He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. “There’s no one here but us. Rob, you said it yourself; these buildings have been abandoned and locked up tight for nearly thirty years.”

“But-“

“But _nothing_ ,” Nicholas hissed. “Even if we do come across someone, it’s probably gonna be a homeless person or strung out druggie who broke in from somewhere else, which I highly doubt. You probably heard the building settling, it’s old after-what?”

Nicholas was cut off by the terrified wide eyed stares of the two young men standing in front of him. They weren’t staring at him either, but rather at something just over his shoulder. Very slowly, they both raised their hands to point to something behind Nicholas, their mouths tightly strained into thin lines.

Nicholas quickly looked over his shoulder and thought he saw something move very fast towards the right hand hallway at the end of the room.

“Oi, where the fuck are you goin’?!” Ollie was practically screaming as he watched Nicholas start to walk down the staircase and onto the animation art floor.

“I want to prove there’s nothing else here,” Nicholas said calmly. His voice may have been steady, but his heartbeat was starting to increase. This place was definitely strange. The aura it gave out…the structure…the mystery surrounding the power…Nicholas now wanted to know more. He was now invested.

Behind him, he heard Rob and Ollie hurry to catch up to him, obviously not wanting to be left behind.

Rob’s voice was whining as he walked behind Nicholas. “Sammie said it was just a routine property check…nobody said anything about ghost hunts…”

At that very moment, there was the sound of cracking, rotten wood giving way and Rob cried out in pain. Nicholas turned to see the poor junior lawyer with half of his left leg stuck through the floorboards. He was practically crying now, his hat having fallen off his head and sitting beside him. His glasses were also skewed as Ollie tried to help him out of the hole.

“Uhhnnnngghhh…I didn’t sign up for this…,” Rob sobbed, now sitting on the dirty floor with a torn pant leg and smudged face. “I just wanna go home…”

“Are you hurt?” Nicholas asked.

Rob sniffed and shook his head. “No…I…I might have bruised my ankle, but…I’ll be ok…”

Ollie shook his head, crossing his arms again. “Look, this just ain’t worth it. I say we go home for the time bein’ until we’re better prepped for somethin’ like this. Obviously we weren’t expectin’ the building to be in this state. We’re gonna seriously get hurt at this rate.”

Rob looked up at Ollie with shining eyes then at Nicholas. “Finally, a voice of reason! Nick, come on, let’s just go…”

Nicholas wondered if they were right. The room was full of mid-day light, there were shadows everywhere from the old furniture and of course being an old building, it was bound to creak and groan from time to time. Admittedly, Nicholas was a bit freaked out by whatever it was he saw before, because that thing was not human. But he needed to know. Something inside him was demanding it.

“…Stay here.” Nicholas finally answered.

“Excuse me?” Ollie’s face was incredulous and Rob looked like he wanted to cry again.

Nicholas took a deep breath and repeated himself. “I said stay here. I want to check one more thing out before we leave. It’ll only take a few minutes. I’ll be right back and won’t be far.”

“Are you freaking nuts?!”

“Look, it’s just this one thing that’s been bothering me. It was in some notes left behind by my grandfather about the studio building and I want to check. I promise it won’t take long.”

Ollie swore and ranted a bit before giving in. “…alright. Yous get five minutes. _ONLY_ five! Yous got it? Then we're outta here!”

Nicholas almost laughed out loud at Ollie’s last statement. He really was Wally’s grandson; that sentence sounded just like him. Nicholas turned on his heel and walked into the right hand hallway. To his left was what was left of a door and a staircase leading to a second level and then a small dark room. He clicked his flashlight back on and saw that it was a viewing theater.

The actual screen was still intact and many of the chairs were just plain wooden office chairs lined up. Some were knocked over and a few were broken. Near the screen were a couple squat tables holding old projectors and some 35mm film canisters. Nicholas was extremely surprised to see such a thing still sitting there, undisturbed after so many years. The whole scene looked like it had been left in a hurry.

A small scraping noise pricked Nicholas’s ears and brought him back to the present. As far as he knew, he was the only one in the theater. The scraping sounded like one of the chairs being pulled, like someone was moving it to sit on. He moved his flashlight around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. He knew he needed to get a move on; his five minutes were almost up. Then, a loud clattering from one of the tables at the front made Nicholas jump. A film canister rolled across the floor and stopped right at his feet, falling over with a heavy and dull metal _thud_.

Nicholas was getting nervous now. He should have known better than to come in here alone. He started to slowly back up, keeping his eye on the room and the unexplained film canister that had made its own way to him. As he was walking backwards towards the hallway entrance, he bumped into something large and solid. The sound of thick, heavy breathing could be heard behind him, along with the sound of something dripping.

Something splattered into his shoulder. He looked down; it was a dark wet stain of India ink. More ink began to dribble onto his body; from his head, to his shoulders, to his back…all the way down to his shoes, pooling around his feet and bubbling like it was alive. Nicholas gulped. He didn’t want to, but that same force that told him to come in here was now urging him to look up. He knew what he was going to see.

A bent and hunched faceless monster dripping from head to toe in this inky concoction peered down at him, its head cocked to the side almost in confusion. Nicholas blinked; this…wasn’t what he was expecting…? Yet the ink monster let out the most horrid guttural shriek as soon as Nicholas turned, causing him to not only scream in turn, but fall, drop his flashlight and bang his left arm and head on one of the wooden office chairs. The last thing he remembered before passing out was the ink monster dissipating into the wooden floorboards. Then his world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ==>The author has something to say<==  
> And with this, I expect the Ink to start becoming a bit more active in Nick's everyday life. This was initially my end goal :D And who exactly did Nick meet in the viewing theater? Was it real or just a wild daydream?  
> If all goes well, I hope to be able to introduce Nathan Arch as an antagonist in the next chapter. Oh yes, I have great plans for this old retired friend of Joey Drew's...great great plans...  
> As always, thank you for reading my weird little writing idea! Game lore theories and my own ideas being mashed together, oh what wonderful trembling chaos it is...It's all for my own enjoyment after all and I'm not expecting much to come from it, but if others enjoy it, then that becomes a bonus!


	12. If Illusion is A Distortion of Reality, Then What is 'Living'?

“ ** _I suppose this is what I deserve, after everything I’ve done. I started with nothing…and in the end, I’m left with nothing. In retrospect, I’m just left regretting starting this whole mess and not being able to finish it. I know you are out there listening, so please…do this old man one more favor…”_**

Nicholas awoke with an abrupt start, throwing his arms out in a flail and screaming something incoherent. His breathing was ragged and he wasn’t quite sure of where he was. It was just like when he had fainted in the bathroom at the hotel and somehow woken up on the bed…but this time he wasn’t alone. His shoulder was grabbed sharply as he continued to babble nonsense and that action seemed to make him more aware of his surroundings. He realized that he was still in the semi-dark viewing theater of the warehouse-like studio. Nicholas slowly turned to see a very panic stricken looking Rob and a pale faced Ollie holding onto him. Both looked worse for wear.

“Nick…Nick?!” Ollie shook him a little bit with force, his voice laced with worry. “We heard you scream and then come find you passed out on the ground. Bro, what the hell happened?!”

“You kept muttering weird things while you were passed out,” Rob put his hand on Nicholas’s other shoulder. “Something about monsters and a cycle and retribution…Nick, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I…I…,” Nicholas’s voice was failing him. He wasn’t entirely sure himself. Nick just put his head in his hands, straining to remember. He…remembered coming into the room, seeing the projector, then the canisters…but what happened after that? And that strange voice…just before he woke up, why did it sound so familiar, yet he was so sure he’d never heard it before? And…it seemed to know him?

His left hand touched something wet on his head and he immediately pulled back in alarm, also startling the other two. Squinting in the dark, he could just barely see that the wet on his hand was in fact, _not_ ink, but rather fresh blood. His head was bleeding. Nicholas also noticed that there was a tear on his windbreaker’s sleeve and that too was stained with some blood.

“…we…should…go…,” Nicholas finally managed to mumble.

Rob had heard Nicholas, but not very clearly. “Huh? What was that?” 

Nicholas was starting to feel dizzy. Was he really bleeding that badly? He looked down at the red on his hand and that rush of lightheadedness really hit him. He nearly fell over again and Ollie had to support him.

“Whoa! Nick, hey, are you ok buddy?”

Rob gently brushed back Nicholas’s bangs and finally noticed the gash on the side of his head and the blood soaking into his hair. He involuntarily sucked in a breath and choked a bit; he’d never been very good with blood. Ollie noticed too and saw that Nicholas was fading fast.

“Hey, Ollie, we really should go. Nick needs medical attention,” Rob whispered.

“Yeah, I agree,” Ollie said, nodding. He might have been shorter than Nicholas, but he was stocky and burly, easily lifting the lighter man who had now somewhat passed out again.

Rob stood up as well, going back into the imposing animation studio floor room. “What do you think? Should we go through the basement door again?”

“Nah, it’ll take too long. I can get the board off the front door and we’ll go out that way,” Ollie replied, walking past Rob, purpose in every step. It was like every ounce of cowardice that had been in his body before was now turned to determination to take this new friend to safety.

“What?! Are you sure you can get that board off?!” Rob’s ankle was still hurting, so he was limping a bit while trying to keep up with Ollie as they made their way back to the old receptionist’s lobby.

“I’ll kick it down if I have to. Nick’s been hurt because I wasn’t prepped for the situation, so this is my fault.”

“Ollie…”

Nicholas while slung over Ollie’s shoulder let out a groan of pain and shifted slightly. Ollie quickly set him down on one of the unbroken lobby chairs as gently as he could.

“Sit tight, buddy. We’ll get you outta here in a jiffy.”

Nicholas appeared to nod in acknowledgment, but in reality, he was more so in a sort of half-conscious state. He could hear people talking around him, but couldn’t make out what was being said. He could feel himself being picked up, jostled around and set down, but he didn’t have any control of his limbs. It was akin to the feeling of free floating in a pool of water.

That strange crackling voice came drifting into Nicholas’s mind again. It was like a radio had been turned on and was searching for the right frequency. He frowned as he heard it whisper into his mind’s ear. It seemed to chuckle as it spoke in its low toned radio wave buzz.

**_“Such a spitting image…never thought I’d see that face again after what happened thirty years ago._ ** **_I know we’ve never met…but this is my last ditch effort to atone for my sins; everything else I tried failed. So Nick, I’m leaving this to you…please help them…and please…tell them all…I’m truly sorry…”_ **

………

“Hey! He’s awake!” Rob’s youthful voice replaced the radio crackle as Nicholas’s consciousness rapidly rose back to the surface. He squinted at the bright lights of the unknown room and blinked several times, rolling his head on what seemed to be a pillow.

“Oi, bro, don’t go movin’ too much,” Ollie said, putting a hand on Nicholas’s arm. “You’ve still got the IV in you.”

Nicholas groaned and blinked again, his eyes focusing on the white walls of a hospital room. His head was pounding and his left arm was bandaged up tightly with some gauze while a single IV drip trickled some unknown medicine into his body.

“…what…happened…?” Nicholas’s voice was weak and sounded like it hadn’t been used for years.

“You hit your head on a chair inside the warehouse and got a mild concussion,” Rob answered. “You’re at the hospital right now. We brought you here after you passed out.”

“Oh…,” Nicholas’s voice trailed off as he leaned back into his pillow. “Where’s the other guy? Who was he?”

“What other guy?” Rob asked.

“The older guy,” Nicholas insisted. “You know, the one who was on the two way radio. He kept talking to me.”

The two glanced at each other with confused looks, then back at Nicholas with more concern.

“Nick…” Ollie started very delicately, the hand on his arm tightening. “There…wasn’t a two way radio.”

“What?”

Ollie was starting to look really scared as he stared at Nicholas. “Yeah…it was just us three…remember?”

“Do…do you not remember us finding you passed out on the floor?” Rob was now tapping his cheek, giving Nicholas a pointed stare. “Nick, I need you to tell me exactly what you saw in that room before you hit your head.”

Nicholas blinked again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that at the moment; his thoughts were a muddled mess.There was definitely a voice that kept talking to him. Whoever he was, he kept pleading with Nicholas. And then there was…

Nicholas remained silent for a few minutes, trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he started to slowly speak.

“There was…too much film equipment left behind in that room…it’s weird…and then when…when I was leaving…I heard a noise and…ugghhhnnn…” Nicholas’s head started to throb harder as he tried to remember. The hazy image of the humanoid figure thickly coated in viscous ink came to the front of his mind. He doubled over as the pain shot straight to the cut on his forehead. 

“Nick!”

“It’s ok…just go slowly…” Rob patted the back of Nicholas’s shoulder. “What happened next?”

Nicholas sat on the hospital bed breathing heavily, his eyes tearing up as the fresh wound on his head begun to bleed slightly again. He gingerly touched his bandaged arm, the image of the ink monster and its faceless maw still screeching in his face. He shuddered at the thought.

_Crap…I’m doing it again. If I tell them that, they’ll think I’m nuts._

“…I…tripped in the dark,” Nicholas finished. “I tripped over something on the floor, fell and hit my head somehow. I probably yelled out when I fell and that’s what you guys heard. You both were right when you said we should have left. I’m sorry I scared you two so badly.”

“………”

“………”

It was obvious neither Rob nor Ollie was buying that story, but since Nicholas was injured, they weren’t going to press the issue further. Luckily at that moment, a nurse came into the room to check on Nicholas. She did various routine things here and there before giving him the all clear to go home. After signing some papers at the front desk, Nicholas, Rob and Ollie were all standing outside in front of the hospital. The silence between the three of them was extremely awkward.

Ollie was the first one to speak. He roughly shoved a piece of paper at Nicholas, pulling his baseball cap a bit lower over his face. “Look…I’m no good with words. My mama always says I talk a lot but never really says much. But I decided that yous a good guy Nick and I’m real sorry for what happened today at the warehouse. I shoulda been more prepped for it.” He pointed to the crumpled notebook paper. “That’s my personal home number. If you need anything while yous here in New York, just call me.”

With that, Ollie turned on his heel and bolted for his car that was parked a few spaces down at a meter next to the curb. It didn’t take long for him to speed away into the fading evening traffic around the hospital’s ER center. Rob tapped Nicholas and nodded towards his own car parked nearby.

“Come on. I’ll take you back to your hotel.”

“Huh? But what about the storage unit?” Nicholas protested, but Rob firmly stopped his advance, shaking his head.

“Nick, you’ve got a head injury,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “The storage unit isn’t going anywhere. You need rest, first and foremost. Let’s just go back to the hotel and then we can figure out what to do from there. Sound good?”

Nicholas pursed his lips and muttered a rather forced ‘yes’. The two got into the ugly green Pinto and started their journey back to the Brooklyn hotel. The cab of the car was silent save for the noise of the radio Rob had going on a low volume. Nicholas just spent his time staring out the window, his thoughts wandering here and there aimlessly.

The voice of his grandfather started to waft into his mind; the gentle and somber tone soothing his turbulent mind.

**_“Well now…what’s this?”_ **

**_‘Henry’s’ mildly senior face crinkled with a small smile as he looked down at someone. His hair was still cut in that short, tidy trim, fading from its light brown to a sandy grey mix on the shaved sides. His face was also clean shaven and the crows feet at the corners of his pale brown eyes were hiding secrets. A piece of paper was lifted up into view. ‘Henry’ took the paper, the smile widening._ **

**_“Did you draw this?”_ **

It was one of the few memories of his grandfather Nicholas had. He had been about four or five at the time and his parents had taken him to visit his mother’s parents one holiday. This was also before Nicholas’s father, Davis Katz, had abandoned his wife and child, but he was starting to show his true colors at this point. He’d lost his job earlier that year and showed no signs of finding another one. Nicholas’s mother had been supporting them on her secretary’s income for the past few months. Things were strained, but Nicholas’s parents were trying to hide it for the time being.

Nicholas had gleefully taken a drawing of something (he couldn’t recall exactly what) and happily shown it to his grandfather that day. Henry had taken the child’s drawing, praising Nicholas for the doodle and hung it on the refrigerator. Cliché, now that Nicholas recalled, but he also remembered how delighted it had made him. This person who he maybe saw twice a year had not only commended him for a job well done, but also displayed the drawing like it was a gallery worthy piece. Nicholas wouldn’t stop talking about it for days afterward; he could say at that point in his life was when he decided that he wanted to be an illustrator just like his grandfather.

“…ick…Nick!”

Nicholas looked back from his window over at Rob. “What?”

“I said we’re here.” Rob pointed past Nicholas to the entrance of the hotel building.

“Oh. Ok then.”

As they got out and went inside, Rob kept giving Nicholas side glances. Even inside the elevator, Rob’s eyes were full of intrepidation and worry. The doors sounded their * _ping ping*_ and opened on the appropriate floor and finally, Rob just flat out asked. He stopped Nicholas right before he unlocked the hotel room door.

“Nick…tell me the truth,” he said, looking Nicholas right in the eyes. “You and I both know there was something else in that theater. What really happened?”

Nicholas sighed. This guy…he really was too nice for his own good…so worried for someone he had just met that day. Sure Nicholas might just be a client, but Rob didn’t need to be going this far. He shook his head and pushed Rob’s hand off.

“Nothing happened, really, I swear. I did hear a loud noise and got a bit spooked. While I was trying to get out, I honestly did trip over one of the broken chairs. I probably heard a raccoon or a rat scuttling around.”

Rob still wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? It’s not just the bump on your head talking?”

“Rob, look, I’m fine, really.” Nicholas almost didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “It’s not even that bad, I’ll be right as rain in a day or two. Just let Mr. Lawrence know what happened, ok?”

Rob bit his lip, but finally had to let the matter drop. He took off his glasses to give them a cleaning swipe and sighed heavily. “Alright…if you say so.” He looked back up to Nicholas, his face serious. “Ollie’s right, you really are a good guy. Sammy wasn’t wrong either. Listen, I’ll call you in the morning and we can talk about arranging to go get the stuff from the storage unit. There’s not a whole lot; just a few dozen boxes and some clothing…the usual type stuff, you know. Get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

Rob waved goodbye and Nicholas entered his hotel room. Looking around the small single bed accommodations, he suddenly realized he’d been here for almost three days. His weekend trip was almost up. If things kept going at this rate…Nicholas tossed his backpack onto the bed and reached for the room’s phone, ready to call the front desk to extend his stay for another two days when there was a sharp knock at his door.

Confused, Nicholas put down the phone’s receiver and went back to the door. Maybe Rob had forgotten something? He opened the hotel room’s door, expecting to see the lanky lawyer’s clerk. Instead, he was greeted by a tall, elderly man dressed in a three piece white pinstripe suit. Behind the gentleman were two burly and stern looking bodyguards. Their eyes were obscured by sunglasses, despite it being dark outside now.

The elderly gentleman smiled at Nicholas who was staring dumbfoundedly at him. The smile did not reach his eyes and it gave Nicholas chills.

“Hello,” greeted the man. “I presume you’re the Mr. Nicholas Katz I’ve heard so much about. Pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Nathan Arch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ==>The author has something to say<==  
> Oh...poor Nick got injured...well it's good that his two new friends are quick to help.  
> Whoop whoop, FINALLY! After much struggle and exposition writing and PLOT THICKENS, Nathan Arch has made his appearance! :D You guys have no idea how excited I am to work with him as a character.  
> I need to figure out some stuff that the Ink can do, cause right now it's just limited to delusions and the nightmares. I've got some ideas but...well maybe some drabbles will help work those out.


End file.
